WYRS 3

Chapter 3

Even in the shade, the girl shone. Atul opened his mouth to say something to Freya, then quickly closed it again. His face twisted into a harsh scowl.

It was because Freya had once again frowned at him.

Ever since the first day he came here, Freya would sometimes make that expression. Even while chasing after him, she would suddenly stop and send him a look as though she despised him.

The sorrow he had been suppressing began to bubble up from deep inside. Finally, Atul burst out, shouting as he jumped to his feet.

“What the hell is your problem?!”

Freya’s startled eyes swept over his face. Atul’s clenched fists trembled.

“If you hate me so much, then just ignore me. Why keep following me? Do you want to look down on me arrogantly or something?”

“W-what are you talking about? I think you’re misunderstanding…”

“So now you’re calling me stupid too? Forget it. I’ve got nothing more to say to you.”

“Wait… Atul!”

Freya grabbed his arm, but Atul shook her hand off roughly. She tried to follow him as he strode away, but then let out a sharp cry and collapsed to the ground.

“Ah!”

Atul glanced back at the small but pained cry. Freya was clutching her ankle, sobbing.

For a moment, Atul suspected she was just pretending in order to stop him. But the sweat beading on her forehead told him this was no act.

If Freya really was hurt, it would be troublesome for him. He could be blamed, and the matter might even reach his father.

Yes, that was all it was. It wasn’t because he was worried about this spoiled noble girl. Atul turned back, crouched in front of her, and without hesitation took hold of her ankle.

“Let me see.”

“I-it’s fine…”

“You’re bleeding. How is that fine?”

Awkwardly, Atul slipped off her shoe. Setting aside the high-heeled shoe with unusual care, he examined her foot.

As his careful gaze lingered, Freya’s pale face turned crimson like a radish.

Her feet were in terrible shape—scratched and bruised everywhere, the heels especially raw.

“Ow!”

On top of that, it seemed she had twisted her ankle. When he moved it slightly, she cried out. Atul clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Why did you endure it until it got this bad? Are you stubborn, or just stupid?”

“I’m not stupid. I just had to endure it.”

“What?”

“To get used to wearing heels, there’s no choice. Patience is a lady’s virtue. And Mother said beauty always comes with pain.”

Freya pouted, brushing his hand away and turning her back. Atul looked at her in disbelief.

“You endure until your feet are ruined just to be pretty? If you abuse your feet while you’re still growing, it’ll stunt your height. What could you possibly gain from that?”

After a pause, Freya’s lips moved.

“If I become pretty… people will like me. And if people like me, then Father will acknowledge me too.”

A fleeting shadow of despair crossed her face as she spoke her father’s name. Atul could no longer scold her.

He remembered Sanchez’s words—that everyone has their own burdens. Even Freya, who seemed to live with flowers blooming in her head, clearly had her own circumstances.

Looking down at her, so small and subdued, Atul suddenly raised his head as a thought crossed him.

“Then… don’t tell me the frowning you do sometimes—it was because of those shoes?”

“Huh? I frowned?”

“Yeah. Right to my face. I thought you hated me because of it.”

“No! I wasn’t doing it because of you! I don’t hate you!”

Freya waved her hands frantically, her big eyes brimming with tears as if she were truly wronged.

Atul narrowed his eyes skeptically, and Freya ducked her head, mumbling.

“How could I hate you… You pulled my handkerchief out of the pond, and you bring me flowers to my room every day. You know so many things, you’re tall, and… and…”

She trailed off, fidgeting with her hands, her face burning red—so red her platinum-blond hair seemed tinged with pink.

Atul couldn’t understand her. Everything he had done was simply what any servant in the household would do.

He retrieved the handkerchief only because she’d looked like she was about to cry. Delivering flowers was part of his duties.

He knew more simply because he was three years older than her. And his height—well, he didn’t know if that was even a virtue.

But one thing was certain: Freya Swan didn’t hate him. Atul’s lips twitched upward.

“Well… sorry if I misunderstood.”

Feeling awkward, Atul rubbed the back of his neck. Freya’s head snapped up at his apology, and she locked eyes with him eagerly.

As she fluttered her long lashes, Atul felt a strange tickling sensation in his side, as though someone were poking him.

There were stars in her eyes—damnably pretty eyes. Smiling with those beautiful eyes, Freya asked,

“Then… will you play with me now?”

“I don’t mind, but I don’t think it’s good for you.”

“Why? It’s fun playing with you…”

“Wouldn’t the Countess disapprove?”

The memory of several painful incidents pricked Atul. When he had first come here, some children his age had approached him. They’d quickly become friends, but their parents had scolded them harshly.

Right in front of Atul, they had sneered that immigrants were of poor stock. If commoners thought that way, how much worse would nobles be? But Freya shook her head, her eyes clear.

“No. Mother… she actually likes it. She says I can do as I wish here—at least until Father comes back.”

“So the Count must be strict.”

“Mm-hm… But it’s for the family, so I can endure it.”

Whether she meant it sincerely or was just hiding her true feelings, Atul couldn’t tell. But the tension in her little chin made him want to comfort her.

Maybe Freya was a better kid than he thought. He began picking through stories she might enjoy—tales of adventure that might make her smile again.

“Then—”

“But hey, Atul.”

Freya turned to him, her round eyes raised imperiously.

“Why don’t you speak politely to me?”

Atul let out a laugh of disbelief.

Never mind. She wasn’t such a good kid after all.

Wanting to comfort her had been a mistake. Freya Swan was, without question, a spoiled brat.

Despite that, Atul continued to meet her every day on the hill. He didn’t have much else to do until Sanchez returned from work, and playing with Freya wasn’t all that boring.

“Atul! Look at me, I’m super fast, right?”

Freya, barefoot, raced across the hill. For a girl who had once been horrified at the idea of taking off her shoes, she now sprinted across the grass as if she were born for it.

Before she even reached the top, she tossed both shoes high into the air.

Atul realized those little shoes probably cost more than his father’s monthly wage. Quietly, he picked them up and set them in the shade.

“When I run like this, it feels like the wind is whispering to me.”

“What does it say?”

“That’s a secret!”

Freya burst out laughing and flopped down beside him. Even as she panted for breath, she laughed and laughed, a joy so infectious that even sulky Atul found himself chuckling quietly.

The wind swept over the hill in response, rustling the grass like the sound of waves.

Whoosh—

It reminded Atul of home. Around this time of year, he would spend entire days playing in the sea with the village kids.

He had ruled the ocean as though it were his own, and on days he caught fish, his mother would make her special stew.

But as he traced the past, Atul’s face hardened. Warm memories, once cooled, only became unbearably cold. He felt as though his heart was being cut open by memories he could never return to.

To hide the shadow over his face, he popped a chocolate into his mouth. The sweet cream-filled candy melted on his tongue.

“Isn’t that your snack? If I get caught eating it, I’ll be in trouble. Take it back.”

“No! I brought it because I don’t like sweets. If I don’t take it, Nancy will pout. I can’t just throw it away.”

Atul hadn’t believed her at first—he’d never heard of a child who disliked sweets. But she hadn’t been lying.

Every day, Freya gave him her treats, and never so much as glanced at them herself.

Thanks to her, Atul enjoyed rare desserts he’d never even had back home. Not because he loved sweets—he simply couldn’t stand to see them wasted.

As he ate the chocolate, Freya, watching him from the corner of her eye, suddenly spotted a pendant on the ground. Her eyes widened.

“Atul! You dropped this again.”