YWPWYLFDM 36

Chapter 36

“Why are you crying?”

And then, the dream shifted.

“…Winfred?”

Just a moment ago, she had been happily rubbing her cheek against her mother’s face, filled with the purest joy.

But suddenly, she was somewhere else.

Where am I? She looked around.

Ah—on the rooftop. The one where she used to stargaze with Winfred.

But back then… had she cried? No, she definitely hadn’t.

Yet, strangely enough, her eyes now felt damp.

“Don’t cry, Ayla. If you cry…”

If you cry… Winfred couldn’t finish his sentence, but somehow, she felt she already knew what he meant.

Because in this dream, Winfred’s expression was full of sorrow, as though her tears were his own.

“Miss.”

“…That’s odd. Cloud?”

A long scar ran down the right side of his face. The dream had shifted again, and now Cloud stood before her.

This dream, however, was far less to her liking. Out of all the people in the world, why him?

Ayla puffed out her cheeks in protest. She had been with Winfred…

She didn’t even like the company she had been given in this dream, and on top of that, her eyes stung, her vision blurring.

“Miss, I’m sorry. I…”

Cloud’s face twisted with unbearable pain as he apologized.

“…What a strange dream. Cloud, you… you would never apologize to me, would you?”

Because Cloud was cruel. He deceived her, using her for his family’s name and power.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Sorry about what?”

Why was he apologizing? It was only a dream, and yet, even here he came to disturb her heart.

Ayla wanted to yell, but her body wouldn’t move. Likely because it was a dream.

“…”

Cloud pressed his lips shut. Ridiculous. Even in a dream, he would never confess his crimes.

So why had she even asked?

“…Does it feel good, tricking me?”

She sneered as she asked. Cloud’s normally impassive face contorted with guilt.

“Does it amuse you to fool a foolish child?”

No. She already knew it wasn’t amusement for him.

Deceiving her pained him. And yet…

Perhaps she was only lashing out.

Still, it was a dream.

…Yes. Just a dream.

And again, the scene shifted.

“Miss? Miss?”

For a moment, Ayla seemed to wake, but quickly drifted back to sleep.

“…Does it amuse you, tricking a foolish child?”

Cloud, who had kept vigil by her side all night, frowned deeply. What on earth had she meant by that?

Her tone had been as though she knew everything.

That couldn’t be. It mustn’t be.

The fireplace filled the room with warmth, yet a chill wind seemed to crawl down his back.

…Could she have known?

Since when? And how much?

That she wasn’t Byron’s real daughter? Or… that she was being raised as an assassin to one day kill her own father?

No. Impossible.

How could a mere thirteen-year-old child know such truths, and still act as though nothing were wrong—still laugh and dote on Byron like before?

Watching Ayla sleep, her face pale with illness, Cloud’s own expression warped with a mix of dread and guilt.

At some point, morning had come, and Laura slipped into the room.

“Uncle, you should rest now. I’ll watch over her.”

“Ah… yes. I’ll leave her to you.”

Even as he left and handed her over to Laura, his eyes lingered on Ayla, trembling faintly.

No, it couldn’t be. Surely not.

And yet, a small seed of doubt had already taken root.

What if—just what if—that small child truly knew everything?

The thought kept forcing its way up.

…Why does my head feel so heavy?

Ayla sluggishly sat up. A wet cloth slid from her forehead and dropped into her lap. What? She blinked away the drowsiness clinging to her lashes and glanced around.

Laura was slumped in a chair beside the bed, dozing off.

And then, memory returned.

Ah, that’s right. I collapsed.

She had forced herself to endure the cold rain, and eventually fainted.

It wasn’t the sort of thing that should have made her collapse—but the fatigue had been building up for a long time.

How long have I slept?

Her back ached, her head was dull. It had been so long since she had slept like this, she couldn’t even guess how much time had passed.

“Oh! You’re awake, Miss!”

Startled by the sound of movement, Laura jerked upright.

“What happened…?”

“What happened? Do you know how frightened Master was when you suddenly fainted? You slept for two whole days!”

Two days…? I slept that long?

She could hardly believe it. Never in her life had she slept so long. She was used to going to bed early and rising early without fail.

Other than her infancy, she had never lain abed like this.

…And yet I’m still drowsy. I must really be unwell.

Even after two days of sleep, she felt she could close her eyes and drift off again immediately.

“Your fever’s mostly gone now. Are you hungry?”

Laura pressed her hand against Ayla’s forehead with a grumble. It was still a little cool—so the fever hadn’t entirely broken.

“Yes. I’m hungry.”

As soon as she admitted it, her stomach growled loudly. No wonder, after two days without food.

“Wait here. I’ll bring you something.”

Grumbling under her breath about the trouble of nursing a sick child, Laura soon returned with a steaming bowl of chicken soup.

…Come to think of it, I had some kind of dream, didn’t I?

As Ayla sipped the hot broth, she tried to recall. Two days’ worth of sleep must have filled her with countless dreams.

But she couldn’t quite remember any of them clearly.

Perhaps she had dreamed of her real parents, or of Byron, or even of Winfred.

…It doesn’t matter.

She focused on the soup. Her hunger after two days of fasting aside—it was genuinely delicious.

Even if she despised her deceivers, she couldn’t deny Capella’s cooking was superb.

By the time she’d emptied the bowl, Laura handed her a cup of medicine—clearly bitter from the smell. Ayla scrunched up her face but swallowed it down.

Sleepiness returned almost immediately.

“…Can I sleep more?”

“Of course. Master ordered that you rest until you’re fully recovered.”

Laura adjusted her pillow and blanket. Though she’d thought it would be hard to fall asleep again after two days, she drifted off almost instantly.

Ayla was sick for quite some time.

It was the first time in her life she had been forced into such idleness, and though she wondered if it was alright, she simply couldn’t stop sleeping.

Days blurred into weeks, and by the time she rose from her sickbed, the seasons had changed completely.

The colorful leaves had fallen, leaving the trees bare, and the first snow of winter had already blanketed the world.

In her past life, she had also grown taller around this age—and this life was no different. She still had years to go before her body matched the memories she carried, but her growth was unmistakable.

Perhaps it hadn’t been illness at all, but her body stretching to catch up.

“We’ll need to make new clothes.”

Laura clucked her tongue when she saw the sleeves of Ayla’s training clothes riding up her wrists and ankles.

Children were supposed to grow—it was natural. But Laura seemed more irritated than anything else.

Of course, Ayla knew why: Laura and Capella would have to sew her new clothes. Still, did she have to be so obvious about it in front of her?

In her past life, she had shrunk back and even apologized for growing taller. Looking back now, how absurd that had been.

“…Yes, I suppose so.”

She gave a listless reply.

She knew Laura wanted her to feel guilty, but what could she actually do? Growing was natural.

“….”

As expected, Laura’s expression soured, but there was nothing she could say.

Since she had no clothes to wear in the meantime, Ayla put on Laura’s coat. It was a little long, but since Laura wasn’t tall, it fit well enough.

Perhaps because she had been sick so long, Laura fussed over her, wrapping a fluffy scarf and earmuffs around her.

“You’ve barely trained for weeks. If you want to catch up, you’ll have to work even harder now. Otherwise, Master will be disappointed.”

“…I know, Laura. I’ll do my best.”

It was true—while she had been ill, she had at least been free of Laura’s constant nagging. Now, back in daily life, she could feel it in full force again.