Arc-7 Ch-08

 The ticking of the clock’s hands is irritatingly loud, scraping against my ears. The room is so quiet that even the faintest sound seems to echo, which is likely why it feels so oppressive. On the table sits a teacup filled with warm black tea, accompanied by a plate of cookies. Incidentally, the cookies were baked by Mother herself, and she even brewed the tea in front of me.

A noble lady does not normally cook with her own hands. She has servants prepare her meals and brew her tea. Given Mother’s background as the daughter of a former duke and the way she was raised, that should have been the natural course of things. And yet, Mother now cooks and serves food to others. For the wife of a high-ranking noble, that is far from ordinary. When did I begin to notice this?

No, this is no good. Trying to distract myself only leads me to dredge up old memories, which makes me even more tense. My thoughts refuse to settle.

“…What is the matter? These are your favorite cookies. Do not hold back. Go on and eat.”

The cookies, packed generously with nuts folded into the dough, have been my favorite since long ago. After enrolling in the Royal Academy, I tasted countless cakes and pies from famous confectionery shops in the capital. Still, I came to realize that the familiar flavors of the past calm me the most. To be precise, my absolute favorite sweets are those made by Grandma Luce.

She was born into a knight’s family, but she was raised almost like a commoner. Back when the Baldfalt household was still poor, she fed Father and the others with her own cooking, and her skills are exceptional. Mother learned to cook from Grandma Luce, though she was only truly gifted when it came to making sweets. The fact that Father is actually better at everyday cooking is a secret known to almost no one outside the family.

“…You need not be so afraid. I have not put poison in them.”

“…I know that.”

It is not that I dislike Mother’s cookies, nor that I suspect her of poisoning them. I simply do not want to make a mistake while eating or drinking and end up souring Mother’s mood. Being left alone with Mother the day after returning from the capital means I am guaranteed a lecture. If that is inevitable, then I want to reduce the reasons for being scolded by even one.

Father is out, Lionel is studying, and my younger siblings are unreliable. In a situation like this, where I have nowhere to escape, it would be strange not to feel nervous. Resolving myself, I pick up a single cookie. I support it with my other hand as I slowly bring it to my mouth. I bite carefully so that no crumbs fall and my mouth is not visible. The aroma of roasted nuts fills my mouth and nose, and I desperately suppress the urge for my cheeks to relax.

As expected, baked goods are best eaten fresh, right after they are made.

The soft, sugar-laden pastries of the capital, rich with cream, are delicious as well, but the simple flavor of freshly baked sweets carries its own quiet luxury. Next, I take hold of the teacup’s handle and raise it to my lips, tilting it slowly so as not to make a sound, careful to maintain my posture as I sip. From the aroma and taste alone, I can tell that it is the brand of tea I prefer.

Normally, enjoying my favorite food would soothe my heart, but in front of Mother’s stern gaze, the pleasure is reduced by roughly twenty percent. Mother, on the other hand, is my complete opposite. She enjoys the tea and cookies with flawless composure. Even so, having been strictly trained by Mother since childhood, I am confident that I can at least behave as a noble lady without disgracing myself.

Still, when compared to Mother, the difference between us is like heaven and earth. Every one of her movements possesses refinement, or rather, elegance. Those around us often say that we resemble each other closely in appearance, but the difference in upbringing and talent is unmistakable.

“Ariel, do you understand why I have arranged to speak with you alone like this?”

“…Because I avoided talking to you yesterday.”

“Then tell me why you ran away.”

Mother’s tone leaves no room for argument, pressing heavily upon my heart and body.

I know. Even without her pointing it out, I am fully aware that my actions were wrong.

Running away will not change the outcome. It only prolongs the suffering. I understand that honesty and confession would be the wiser path. 

Having reached that conclusion with a sense of resignation, I look back on myself, from the moment I enrolled in the Royal Academy to the present.

“…Is it because my midterm and final exam results were unsatisfactory?”

“Compared to Lionel, who ranks among the top students, they cannot be called satisfactory. That said, they are not poor enough to endanger your advancement. If you are aware of your shortcomings, then make consistent daily effort your guiding principle.”

“Then is it because I spent too much money socializing with friends?”

“Stop borrowing from frugal Lionel to make up the difference. It is unacceptable for a student to borrow money from other young ladies or gentlemen. Even borrowing endlessly from family is a serious issue. I will approve necessary expenses as allowances. However, excess socializing and waste lead to a house’s downfall. From now on, consult me without fail. If you dislike that, then learn moderation.”

“Ah… Then perhaps it is because I argued with students or seniors I disliked?”

“My own past is not clean enough for me to lecture you on that. I am keenly aware that careless words have wounded both myself and others many times. Let me warn you that verbal missteps are frightening. Even the truth, when spoken poorly, becomes a blade that cuts its wielder.”

“I understand. Then the only remaining thing is that I broke some academy equipment during practical training.”

“Wait. I have not heard about that.”

Oh no. I should not have said that. Mother is so startled that she slips back into her natural manner of speaking. Mother actually has a rather rough, tomboyish personality, but she usually restrains herself and speaks politely and gracefully, as befits a noble lady in front of her children and the public. For her to be this shocked means either Lionel concealed the incident, or she truly had no idea.

Seeing Mother unable to hide her wilder side because of sheer surprise, I find myself preferring this version of her. The perfect, immaculate lady feels distant somehow. Being scolded or disappointed by the real Mother hurts in a different way. Even if I try to change myself so as not to be reprimanded, it is not easy. I have no desire to imitate women who speak artificially and flatter men.

 “That matter we will address later. Today, I called you here for a different reason. Ariel, tell me your impressions of life at the Royal Academy.”

“It is fun. I have friends, the food is good, and the classes and practical training let me experience many things. But I am bad at studying. Etiquette lectures, in particular, are unbearably boring. If the homeroom teacher were not the academy director and if it were not a mandatory subject, I absolutely would not attend.”

“…You are attending properly, without skipping, correct?”

“Suppressing my yawns is the hardest part.”

“Good heavens. You truly are something else.”

Mother looks utterly exasperated by my answer, but I am being honest, so please forgive me.

I was drilled thoroughly in ladylike behavior before enrolling, enough to last a lifetime. I have no desire to relearn tea party etiquette or feminine charm designed not to offend men.

“I hate tea parties and soirées. Everyone dresses in excessive gowns and accessories, puts on fake smiles, and either boasts as if others’ achievements were their own or mocks the misfortunes of others. Those vicious women are hideous. I understand exchanging information, but far too many simply want scraps from successful people. Lionel complains that I spend too much, but there are countless girls who befriend me only to get closer to him. It is revolting.”

“…Wait. Is Lionel himself unaware of this?”

“He usually turns them down by saying, ‘I already have a fiancée,’ but not all of them are considerate enough to give up. I never realized so many houses were eager to connect themselves to the Bartfort family. When they bring up family rank, estate size, or seniority, even I cannot refuse their invitations.”

“I see. Then I will consider increasing your allowance.”

Yes. It worked. I exaggerated slightly, but I did not lie, so it should be fine. I attended tea parties hosted by girls aiming for Lionel and accepted their hospitality, but I fulfilled my role. If anything, women who persist even after a man declares he has a younger fiancée are the ones lacking common sense. Taking sweets from them as a small consolation does not make me the villain.

On the contrary, Lionel and my parents should be grateful.

“What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you found a gentleman you are close to? Something typical for a girl your age.”

“I turned them down by saying I have no intention of marrying into a house weaker than mine.”

“…Ariel.”

“It is the truth. Incompetent young men who brag about their lineage while lacking ability approach me with the attitude of ‘I am bestowing upon you the honor of courting me, so be grateful.’ It is perfectly reasonable for me to reply, ‘Do not underestimate me, you bastard,’ is it not? They were far too persistent, so I defeated them during training. That is how the academy equipment ended up broken.”

“So that was the cause you mentioned earlier.”

“Mother, expecting sweet romance stories from me is impossible.”

“…Even so, you are the eldest daughter of this house.”

That again. I am tired of hearing it. Please, stop.

I believe it began when I was around ten years old. I started attending noble gatherings more frequently. At those events, sons of noble houses around my age were often present, and Mother would subtly assess whether any might become suitable husbands for me.

Unaware of her intentions, I was either absorbed in the food or bored out of my mind and sneaked away. I was always scolded afterward.

Especially during the half year before my enrollment in the Royal Academy, Father and Mother dragged me to one gathering after another in the surrounding region.

Given my utter lack of interest, it was inevitable that everything ended disastrously.

“The clothes you wear and the food you put into your mouth are all sustained by taxes paid by the citizens. We must never forget that our way of life rests upon the territory granted by the Holfort Kingdom in recognition of your father’s achievements, as well as upon the labor of the people who migrated here.”

“…Yes.”

“A lord and his family bear the responsibility and duty to enrich their territory. It is precisely because we fulfill those duties that we are able to live peaceful lives, free from hunger and hardship. That is why men risk their lives to protect the land in times of war, and women bring benefit to the territory through ties with other houses. Remember this as the obligation of nobles.”

“I think I understand.”

“Ariel, however, neither your father nor I have any intention of forcing an unwanted marriage upon you for the sake of expanding the Bartfort territory, regardless of your feelings.”

Mother’s voice, which had been stern until then, gradually softened. When I slowly lifted my face, I saw that her gaze was warm. Within my heart, two opposing feelings began to stir. One was the urge to obey her gentle guidance, as though I were a wayward child being corrected. The other was a rebellious resistance against the current of the conversation, which felt as though it were quietly deciding the course of my life.

“Since enrolling, has there truly been no gentleman who caught your interest?”

“Almost all the men who approached me had obvious ulterior motives. They wanted to get close to the Bartfort family, or more precisely, to Father. There is no way I could fall for someone like that.”

“That is unfortunate. It is not guaranteed that one will marry the person they love, but if there had been someone you cared for, both your father and I intended to give it serious consideration.”

“I have been told so often that noble marriages rarely take personal feelings into account that my ears hurt. I have already resigned myself to that.”

“Then, if we were to bring you a marriage proposal, would you listen obediently?”

“That depends on the partner.”

“Actually meeting someone through an arranged matchmaking can sometimes lead to unexpected closeness. That is how it was for your father and me.”

“You were arguing again this morning, though.”

“…That was not a marital quarrel.”

“You are lying. During breakfast, you did not speak to Father at all.”

“We did!”

Mother denied it vehemently, but there was no point. Normally, during breakfast, they would discuss each other’s plans for the day. This morning, however, both of them had remained silent. When Father and Mother argue, their conversations decrease like this for a while.

Conversely, immediately after reconciling, they speak far more than usual. They believe they are hiding it well, but everyone in the family knows.

That was why even the servants had realized this morning that they were fighting and kept their distance to avoid being dragged into it.

“Mother and Father argue quite a lot, don’t they? Even so, I do not understand why you recommend arranged marriage to me.”

“That is why it was not a marital quarrel. It was simply a difference of opinion regarding the future administration of the Bartfort territory.”

“No, that is exactly a marital quarrel.”

“It is completely different. Certainly, I am angry at Leon’s opinion right now. But since marrying him, there has never been a moment when I hated him as a person.”

“…Well, with six children, you must be close.”

Mother’s cheeks faintly reddened. I really wish she would refrain from flirting in front of her children. Why is it that all couples with Bartfort blood, like Grandpa and Grandma or Uncle and Aunt, are always so openly affectionate?

If I ever get married, will I become like that too?

I really do not want to become that lovestruck, so please spare me.

“Mother, for now, I am thinking that if there is a good marriage proposal, I might consider it positively.”

“I am relieved to hear that. Then shall we proceed with the discussion?”

Saying this, Mother stood and walked over to a nearby desk. On it lay a stack of envelopes and booklets, all richly decorated.

Oh no. This is bad.

She intends to force me to attend tea parties and soirées now that she has heard my answer.

I cannot allow my precious long vacation to be ruined by tedious noble social obligations.

As expected, I will have to escape today as well.

While Mother was sorting through the letters, I quietly grasped the hem of my skirt so as not to make a sound and stood up.

Taking careful strides, placing my feet down from the toes, I headed for the door. I had to avoid being seen in such an unladylike posture, or I would be lectured again. I turned the doorknob and opened the door.

But I did not leave the room.

Instead, I swiftly returned to my original spot, crouched down, and hid beneath the table.

Thanks to the thick, heavy tablecloth, my body was completely concealed. Peering through a small gap, I saw Mother’s white ankles and indoor shoes moving slowly.

Crumple.

With a sound like something being crushed, a letter fell to the floor. She must have crumpled it in anger after realizing I had vanished. In reality, I was still hiding in the room.

“…Ariel! Wait right there!”

Her terrifying voice echoed not only through the room but throughout the entire mansion, making me shrink back. The moment Mother’s feet disappeared from view, I heard a loud bang. She must have flung the door open and stormed out. Father often told me during feudal army training, “On the battlefield, when people lose sight of the enemy, they panic and try to move.”

He generously applied the skills he learned on the battlefield to devising ways to escape from an angry Mother. Naturally, the child who ranks first in the Bartfort family for being scolded by Mother would master those techniques.

After confirming that Mother’s presence had completely vanished, I wrapped the remaining cookies in a handkerchief, quietly peeked out the door to check both directions, and then dashed away.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Keeping some distance, I followed Mother as she stomped down the corridor. One method for avoiding someone searching for you is to follow them instead. Those who are chasing a target tend to focus solely ahead and neglect what lies behind them. When I used this tactic during childhood games of hide-and-seek, it worked too well and was promptly banned.

I still rely on it when hiding from Mother. Normally she is calm and composed, but when angered, her attention becomes surprisingly scattered. All I have to do is keep evading her until her anger cools. Busy as she is, she will not abandon her work to chase me endlessly.

As Mother questioned the servants about my whereabouts and searched every room in the mansion, I followed at a distance. When servants noticed me, I pressed a finger to my lips to signal silence and continued trailing her. Eventually, Mother’s raised voice echoed down the corridor as she entered Roxanne’s or Melanie’s room.

A few seconds after she exited Melanie’s room, I slipped inside. People rarely recheck places they have already searched. Until Mother gives up or starts over, my younger sister will hide me.

“Melanie, hide me for a bit.”

“Oh my, Big Sister. Even though we are sisters, entering a room without the owner’s permission is rather improper, is it not?”

“…Roxanne, why are you here too?”

“I wished to read an illustrated book from Melanie’s collection. Naturally, I obtained her permission first.”

What an utterly un-cute little sister. Roxanne resembles Mother the most in talent. She surpasses me, her elder sister, in financial sense and ladylike behavior. In exchange, she is so stingy that one wonders whether she is truly a child. She is not disliked, but our compatibility is terrible.

“What is it, Big Sis Ariel? Mother was looking for you.”

“She is chasing me rather persistently, so hide me here for a while.”

“No. If Mother finds out, I will be scolded too.”

“I am not asking for free help.”

I pulled the rolled handkerchief from my pocket and opened it, revealing nearly ten cookies that Mother and I had been eating earlier.

It feels strange that cookies made by Mother are now being used to escape her, but it is not a bad bargain. Melanie hesitated briefly, then timidly nibbled one. At that moment, she became my accomplice.

“The baking is uneven. Did Mother make these?”

“Roxanne, why are you eating them too?”

“It would irritate me if only Melanie benefited.”

“You did nothing to earn them.”

“If you are paying Melanie to keep quiet, it is only proper to pay me as well. Otherwise, I will inform Mother of your location.”

“You truly have the makings of a corrupt merchant. Be careful not to get caught.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

I have known since childhood that Roxanne is exceptionally shrewd. She will likely grow into an even more frightening woman. If she ever brings up profit margins or contracts, I will politely decline. Meanwhile, Melanie is munching on cookies like a small animal. She is age-appropriate in her own way, but a little too carefree, which worries me. In both my case and Lionel’s, the twins in the Bartfort family exhibit extreme imbalances in talent and personality.

“Did you make Mother angry again, Big Sis?”

“I had barely relaxed after finally coming home, and suddenly it seemed like I would be forced to attend endless parties. If there was even a hint of marriage talks, escaping was my only option.”

“It cannot be helped. Big Sister is the eldest daughter of the Bartfort earldom. If your marriage does not progress, it will affect Melanie and me later. Give up and find a partner soon.”

“Are you serious, Roxanne? If I marry some strange man, he will become your brother-in-law!”

“That will be a problem for you and your husband to resolve. So that I may receive favorable marriage proposals in the future, please hurry and find a partner.”

“That makes me furious!”

“Stop it, Roxanne. Big Sister is pitiful.”

“…Then what kind of man do you want to marry, Melanie?”

“Eh? Um…”

Melanie tilted her head, sinking into thought. This child has inherited Mother’s sharp intellect and possesses an exceptional memory. When she is at home, she often devours illustrated books and specialized texts alike.

Compared to her twin sister Roxanne, she is not skilled in arithmetic or smooth conversation, but I believe she would be well suited to becoming a scholar or a writer.

However, she also has a unique sensibility, deviating from the norm of a noble lady in a way different from my own. As her older sister, I could not help but feel endlessly curious about what kind of partner such a sister would wish to marry.

“…Someone who is interested in the same things as me, and who has a physique like Grandpa or Uncle would be nice.”

“That is unexpected. You are choosing someone strong, not just an intellectual.”

“Because a strong person would protect me even when traveling to dangerous places of adventure, right?”

“…You are not seriously thinking of using your marriage partner as a shield, are you?”

“…Melanie, you are terrifying.”

“Then what kind of person do you like, Roxanne?”

“That is obvious, is it not? Financial power.”

The moment I heard Roxanne’s answer, a headache began to form. Of all people, the young ladies and gentlemen at the academy who try to approach me or Lionel are exactly that sort. Do they believe that by marrying into the Bartfort family, Father will support them or elevate their family’s status?

Unfortunately for them, while Father is indeed the most successful among the newly risen nobles, he has no interest whatsoever in political maneuvering. His personality is closer to that of a farmer who loves cultivating the land of his territory, and he has few connections.

Mother’s family is the Redgrave ducal house, the foremost feudal nobility, but they maintain a deliberate distance from her. The Bartfort family is treated as a vassal house of the Redgraves, so those seeking influence would be better served negotiating directly with Grandfather.

Because Father is often assigned posts involving dealings with the capital, people tend to misunderstand our position. In reality, the Bartfort family lacks the power to form a faction of its own. I absolutely cannot accept associating with such people, let alone being forced into marriage with one of them. I will choose my own life, guided by my own judgment.

“I do not need a high title in particular. As long as they possess financial power, even a commoner would be acceptable. I want to expand the family business or establish a new trading company.”

“Well, if Roxanne is satisfied, then even a political marriage is fine. Just be sure to choose carefully.”

“I understand that much.”

“There are many young ladies like you at the Royal Academy. If you are careless, there are quite a few who end up becoming the second wife of some dreadful, vicious old man.”

“…W-Well, sometimes one must cross dangerous bridges for the sake of success.”

“Marriage is not like gambling, where things always work out.”

“Then what kind of person would Big Sister want to marry?”

Melanie asked in Roxanne’s place, as Roxanne had grown quiet after my warning.

My ideal marriage partner.

…Now that she mentioned it, I had never seriously thought about it.

I can easily list the kinds of men I dislike, those who act arrogant despite being weak, or those who mistake their family’s influence for personal ability. Yet I cannot envision an ideal man whom I genuinely like. To begin with, I have not even experienced my first love.

“I do not know.”

“What kind of answer is that? It is unfair to make only us answer.”

“Big Sis is cheating.”

“Be quiet. You two should just eat your cookies.”

“Then will you become a court lady like Aunt Jenna or Aunt Finley?”

“Or marry into the Redgrave house?”

“Do you really think I could serve as a palace lady or become the wife of a ducal house?”

“…Impossible, huh.”

“Yes. Impossible.”

“Show a little consideration for your older sister.”

“Does Big Sister not want to get married?”

“Indeed. She is always running away and never takes it seriously. Mother will not be convinced unless there is a clear reason to refuse.”

There is a reason. I can envision the person I want to become. There are people I admire.

However, that path will almost certainly never be accepted. The beautifully dressed young ladies declare it.

“Those people are special.”

The know it all adults conclude it.

“You lacked the talent from the beginning.”

Those who seek excuses to abandon effort deceive themselves with such words. Like baby birds waiting with open mouths for their parents, hoping someone will someday save them and carry them to a wonderful place. In a life warped by such illusions, where one merely chooses a man with better conditions, is there any will of one’s own left?

Can you truly say with pride that you are living fully while endlessly traveling between mansion, party hall, and meeting chamber?

This irritation has been building within me for a long time. Since enrolling in the Royal Academy, it has only worsened, eventually spilling out as frustration and anger. The object of my admiration is close by, yet the current me is nothing more than a ridiculous child pretending to be a refined young lady.

“…If it comes to that, I will run to the temple.”

“A temple priestess would be even more impossible for Big Sister, who seems incapable of becoming a palace lady.”

“Big Sis, just give up already.”

“You two really say nothing but irritating things.”

“There is someone Big Sister would think is suitable to marry, is there not?”

“Who would that be?”

“Andre of the viscount house.”

“Haaah?”

An unexpectedly long sound escaped my mouth.

Andre is the eldest son of the Bartfort viscount house, the child of Uncle Nicks and Aunt Dorothea, and my cousin, about five years younger than me.

Our earldom and Uncle’s viscount house, both branches of the Bartfort clan, maintain close family ties. The engagement between Lionel, the earldom’s eldest son, and Theresia, the viscount house’s eldest daughter, was decided around the time Aunt Dorothea was pregnant.

When Father is absent, Mother and Uncle cooperate to protect the territory, and Father serves as Andre’s guardian, granting him various conveniences. Even so, me becoming Andre’s wife? How did they possibly arrive at that conclusion?

“Why would I marry that snot nosed Andre?”

“Because Big Sister always dragged big brother Leah and Andre around, right?”

“You two refused to play with me. Lionel was busy with heir training, so the only ones who played outside with me were Leah and Andre.”

“But you doted on Andre, did you not?”

“I made him cry ten times more often than I made him laugh. When I climbed trees, he could not follow and cried. When I swam in the spring, he jumped in without thinking, nearly drowned, and cried. When he followed me and got lost, he cried again. Andre would never fall for a woman who made him cry that much.”

Because of incidents like those, Aunt Dorothea once forbade Andre from playing with me. After Uncle Nicks and Father reassured the distressed Andre, Aunt Dorothea reluctantly allowed it. From her perspective, accepting me as a bride, someone who repeatedly made her eldest son cry, would be virtually unthinkable.

“Andre has been asking Grandpa and Uncle how to grow taller.”

“Why now?”

“Do you not remember, Big Sister?”

“So what if I don't?”

“Before enrolling in the academy, you said you had no intention of marrying a man shorter than yourself, did you not?”

Now that she mentioned it, I might have said something like that.

When Lionel and I were preparing to attend the Royal Academy, Andre felt lonely and said something along the lines of wanting to become worthy of me someday.

I do not remember how I replied, because it struck me as a strange thing to say. Could he have taken it seriously and begun special training?

“Poor Andre, because Big Sister does not understand his feelings of love.”

“That is too harsh, Big Sis.”

“Be quiet. You two should play with Andre instead.”

“I cannot interfere in someone else’s romance.”

“I think this is entirely Big Sister’s fault.”

“Do not enjoy it like it is someone else’s problem.”

“Oh? What is so amusing?”

[T/N- I was trying get past the 1st incest now 2nd one came knocking, well I should have piece it together, Lionel in a relationship Ariel's was not (I may have secretly thought it will turn into a Yuri)]

A heavy voice came from the doorway, and my body froze. Roxanne and Melanie turned pale as well, trembling. Looking over in fear, I saw Mother leaning against the door with her arms crossed, smiling as she glared at me.

Her expression was smiling, yet it clearly conveyed anger. I had stayed too long, completely absorbed in conversation and forgetting that I was supposed to be hiding.

“It sounds like an interesting discussion. Please, allow me to join.”

“…It may not be a topic Mother would enjoy.”

“That is for me to decide, not you.”

“…Mother, your tone is frightening.”

“That is only natural. Thanks to my ill mannered daughter, I am in an exceptionally bad mood.”

“…Is this going to turn into a lecture?”

“Of course. Even I do not know how many hours it will last.”

“I think wasting busy Mother’s time is unwise.”

“If I correct your disposition thoroughly this time and eliminate future worries, that would be efficient.”

“Excuse me.”

While distracting Mother with conversation, I sprinted toward the window, flung it open, and jumped out. Fortunately, Melanie’s room is on the second floor. Jumping from the third would surely have broken my legs.

I absorbed the impact with my ankles and knees, then rolled to regain my balance. Looking back, Mother glared down at me from the window, frightening enough to haunt nightmares. Fear overtook thought. Still wearing indoor clothes and shoes, I ran through the garden and out of the mansion.

“Wait, Ariel!”

I ran at full speed until Mother’s voice could no longer reach me.

┳━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┳

Author’s Note

┻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┻

Happy New Year.

The first post of the new year focuses on the women of the Bartfort family.

What Ariel is aiming for will gradually become clear. The next chapter will focus on the men of the Bartfort family.

Addendum: At the request of the client, an illustration was drawn by anygatsby.

Thank you very much.

anygatsby- Pixiv

I would greatly appreciate your opinions and impressions as encouragement for the future.