"It seems today's my birthday, huh?"
I looked at the calendar, where today's date was circled with some strange little doodle.
It wasn't hard to guess who drew it.
Obviously, not me.
I'd once heard that the first calendars based on the movements of the Sun and Moon were created in ancient Egypt, long before my era. The one hanging in my room wasn't nearly as complicated, and yet, I still found it hard to make sense of. So, instead of looking at dates, I tended to focus on what was happening outside my window.
"Three years, huh?"
Every year after turning eighteen, I told myself I wouldn't forget.
And every year, I forgot again.
Only the flood of birthday messages from shops I'd subscribed to ever reminded me what day it was.
Why was it so hard to remember?
Maybe because it didn't feel important.
Once you cross a certain threshold, the number of years stops mattering anyway.
Even though things had brought me back to square one, my attitude toward this day hadn't changed.
What use was there in the number three?
Well, I'd definitely gotten taller.
Or at least, it felt that way.
I placed my palm on top of my head to check, but didn't notice much difference.
Oh well.
At least I could be sure about one thing — my hair.
It had definitely grown longer.
So long that I'd sometimes wake up with it stuck in my mouth, or so tangled it hurt.
But I couldn't deny — there was a certain beauty in it.
My eyes were from Quint, and my hair from Emilia.
And though my appearance wasn't fully settled yet because of my age, right now, I liked how I looked more than I used to.
Funny, isn't it — to be so sure of that when I couldn't even remember what I'd looked like before?
But that wasn't something I wanted to dwell on.
I glanced again at the calendar, trying to figure out what exactly Quint had drawn on it.
No matter how hard I stared, no ideas came.
So I quickly gave up and went back to wandering aimlessly around the room.
What should I do next? That was the question.
Though calling me an early riser would be a lie — actually, impossible — today I'd woken up unusually early.
And not from excitement or anything like that.
Looking out the window, it was clearly morning.
The sun shone brightly, scattering reflections across the snow, forcing me to turn away from the glare.
Even though I couldn't remember my old name anymore, I was somehow sure it had contained the character for "void."
And honestly, that fit the season perfectly.
These days, even the liveliest streets were swallowed by the whiteness of snowfields — a scene worthy of "emptiness."
As for Yori…
I couldn't recall any particular kanji that could be tied to my new name.
Perhaps there wasn't one.
But for some reason, I still felt that winter didn't suit me.
Then again, winter was the most unusual of all seasons.
Sure, you could find precipitation year-round — but not in the form of snowflakes so pure and white.
It felt foreign, almost renewed — and in that sense, fitting for the situation.
Alright, enough nonsense.
With that thought, I left the bedroom.
The doorknob was rather high for someone my height, but luckily, a small stool stood nearby — my faithful aid whenever I wanted to leave the room on my own.
It didn't work the other way around, though.
If the wind shut the door, all I could do was stand there and wait for someone to let me in.
In those moments, I probably looked like a cat — scratching at the wood or meowing for help.
"Being short is the worst," I concluded.
I looked around the hallway — nothing had changed since I was two.
Hmm. I had to admit, that sounded kind of funny.
What could've possibly changed in a day anyway?
If I'd somehow grown a few centimeters overnight, then sure — the world might've looked different. Or so I liked to imagine.
I slowly made my way to the staircase.
Looking down at the steps, I sighed.
They still looked just as insurmountable as ever.
A perfect reminder that nothing had really changed.
Holding onto the railing, I carefully lowered one foot to the next step.
Then the other.
A third.
And then—
By the fourth step — or somewhere around there — I was out of breath.
At that moment, I began to understand why halflings avoided climbing stairs.
Even going down was exhausting.
I found myself sitting on the edge of the step, legs dangling, breathing in short bursts.
Even my pulse quickened a little — just like a ringing alarm clock.
Looking back up at the top of the stairs, I imagined myself climbing all the way again.
Even in my imagination, the sight wasn't pleasant.
It felt like I'd collapse from exhaustion before even reaching the first step.
So, what was I supposed to do now?
"Well, well… look at you — you conquered two whole steps. Impressive."
I turned toward the voice and met Quint's gaze.
He stood there with his hands on his hips, as if to emphasize his superiority.
As usual, he didn't bother with appearances: a wrinkled white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and gray trousers so stained no one bothered to count the spots anymore. It seemed even Emilia had long given up on fighting his so-called "sense of style."
"Actually, it was four," I muttered.
"Hmph." He raised an eyebrow. "The first one doesn't even count as a step. And you ran out of steam on the third. Not only do you tire quickly — you can't count either?"
"What…?"
Even on his best days, his voice was never exactly gentle, but today it sounded especially cruel. His usual playfulness had turned into a flurry of sharp-tipped arrows.
"What are you even doing there?"
He crouched down, hunching a little to reach me. Of course, stepping down the stairs would've been the easier option — but Quint never looked for easy ways out. The very concept of practicality barely fit into his head.
He lifted me up by the armpits and set me on his shoulders. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his head to keep from falling.
"Nothing special," I mumbled.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," he replied, then suddenly jolted upright as if remembering something. "Wait a second. What on earth happened for you to leave your room before noon?"
"Huh? Don't you know what day it is?"
His behavior threw me off. My confidence about who had drawn that strange doodle began to waver.
"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "End of the week, right?"
I glanced toward my room, as if trying to peer through the wall at the calendar. Of course, I couldn't see anything — but it was enough to make Quint head there himself.
We stopped in the middle of the room, where he looked up at the calendar.
"There's a sun drawn on it today."
So that's what it was supposed to be?
My face twisted in realization.
Of all the things I could've imagined, the sun wasn't one of them.
That alone made me question my sense of imagination.
But at least it confirmed my suspicion about who had drawn it.
"Right," I said. "That means it's my birthday."
"Ah, I see, I see."
I got the feeling he didn't see anything at all. So I flopped onto his head, my legs dangling like a useless burden.
"Right! Of course!" Quint suddenly declared. "Euriel's coming today to introduce you to—"
He froze mid-sentence, like an old computer lagging mid-process.
I could almost hear that irritating buzzing noise his brain must've made whenever it tried to process too much information.
"It's your birthday, Yori!" Quint suddenly shouted, pulling me off his shoulders and holding me up in front of him like some newborn lion cub.
"Oh really? I hadn't noticed…" I said dryly, rolling my eyes.
"Ho-ho-ho! What would you do without your ever-attentive father?" he grinned, baring his teeth in what he probably thought was a charming smile.
Still, his words made me pause.
Who exactly was Euriel planning to introduce me to?
And why me?
Could it be… he found himself a girlfriend?
Wait — are bishops even allowed to have girlfriends?
I sighed and waved the thought away.
Thinking too hard in this state was exhausting.
Baseless theories rarely matched reality anyway.
"Uh, Yori…"
"Hm?"
"How old are you again?"
I blinked a few times, completely stunned. What kind of father needs to be reminded how old his own daughter is? With how careless he could be, it was hard not to question whether he really was my father. Especially when Euriel of all people managed to remember.
Well, whatever.
With a heavy sigh, I lifted my index, middle, and ring fingers — showing "three."
Through this sort of finger trident, I could see Quint's bright pink eyes darting over my hand, as if trying to count. They moved slowly and deliberately, like cherry blossom petals drifting in the air.
"How thoughtful of you to forget your own daughter's age, attentive father."
The voice cracked through the hallway like a whip.
Quint's smile vanished instantly, as if someone had clapped a hand over it.
His eyes darted around the room, and for a moment I thought he might actually throw me aside and bolt out the nearest window.
"It—it was just a joke, dear! Of course I know Yori's three!" he laughed nervously, and for some reason looked at me, not Emilia — as if silently begging for help.
"Oh, really? I'm glad to see you can at least count, Quint."
Apparently, she'd heard the entire conversation from the very start. But how? She hadn't even been nearby… Sometimes I wondered if Emilia and Euriel belonged to some kind of ninja clan or secret spy order. They always knew more than they said. Meanwhile, Quint and I were perpetually left in the dark.
Quint froze in place, completely still — like an opossum pretending to be dead at the first sign of a predator.
I kicked my legs a little to remind him that I was still there, but he didn't even twitch. Given the difference in our height and build, I realized there wasn't much I could do to resist anyway.
Looking at it from another angle, Quint now resembled more of a coat rack.
Wait… did that make me some sort of clothing item? A coat? A hat?
Hmm… let's stick with "opossum."
With every step Emilia took, I could feel the tremor running through Quint's body and into mine. And yet, she didn't even touch him. Instead, she simply pried his hands apart — freeing me from his grasp like a creature released from a trap.
Lowered gently to the floor, I looked up at her.
She crouched down in front of me, brushed my hair aside, and softly touched my now-bare ears with her fingertips. Then her lips brushed against my forehead.
The warmth of that gesture sent a wave of heat racing across my cheeks.
"Happy birthday, Yori."
Her breath tickled my skin, and my shoulders twitched involuntarily.
I laughed awkwardly, scratched the back of my head, and turned away.
"Well… thanks."
Some things never change — I'd always been bad at accepting congratulations properly. For some reason, moments like these made me feel especially vulnerable.
It wasn't embarrassment — it was that I never quite understood how to respond to someone else's feelings. Especially when those feelings were real.
With Quint, I could always deflect, joke, or ignore him.
But Emilia… Emilia stood too close for that. And in her presence, my carefully stoic expression never lasted long.
Squinting, as if the sun had suddenly blinded me, I kept staring at him.
Quint did the same — as though trying to see what else he could criticize.
"Why were you even digging around in my hair? You're not a monkey!"
"A mon… what?" Quint tilted his head, genuinely puzzled.
I wasn't sure if he was joking. I still knew too little about this world to accuse him of being ignorant. Maybe such creatures simply didn't exist here. Or maybe they were called something else entirely.
So I waved it off quickly:
"Never mind. I read about it in a book."
"You read it? You can read?"
"Well, as you can see — I read it wrong."
At that, Quint walked around the couch and sat beside me.
He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me down. The difference in our physical strength was… well, insurmountable, really — so I didn't resist. I just settled onto his lap, letting him pet me like some household pet.
"Years really do fly by," he said. "I barely noticed how independent you've become."
Despite his smile, there was a note of sadness in his voice.
Honestly, that surprised me. I'd always thought he wasn't the sentimental type.
"You sure about that? I can't even go down the stairs by myself."
"Ha-ha-ha, true, true."
Once again, I realized how blind I could be to other people's feelings.
With Emilia, I felt like I'd somehow managed to cross that invisible line.
But with Quint… I probably still hadn't. Maybe he just seemed too carefree for me to notice the worry hiding behind his childlike grin.
"Dad, who's Euriel bringing with him?" I decided to change the subject.
"Hmph."
What a vague response. If you could even call that a response.
It only made me more curious.
"So… who is it?"
"Hm."
There it was again. He was clearly avoiding the question.
Still, I figured it was probably best not to push him.
After all, even if Quint told me a name, it likely wouldn't mean anything to me.
And when I finally met that person face to face, the situation probably wouldn't become any clearer anyway.
Well, fine.
"You know, Yori," Quint began, prompting me to look up at him.
"You don't need to chase after wealth or wisdom. What matters is staying strong and compassionate. The mind drives people away — gold attracts the wrong ones."
"Hm? What's that supposed to be? A quote from some book?"
"No," he frowned and poked me in the cheek, making me wince. "That's my birthday speech for you. Or maybe fatherly advice. Take it however you want."
"How profound," I said dryly. "And by strong, how exactly do you define that?"
Judging by the look on Quint's face, he clearly hadn't expected that question.
His eyes darted nervously toward the ceiling, as if searching for hints up there.
"Well… I guess it means finding the strength to deal with whatever life throws at you, yeah," he said, scratching his forehead awkwardly. "Probably means — to keep moving forward, no matter how hard it gets."
For as long as I could remember, I'd never seen this side of Quint.
It was as unexpected as watching a jester give advice on ruling a kingdom.
Maybe that sounded harsh, but given how he usually behaved, it wasn't far from the truth.
"Well… I'll think about it."
I turned toward the window. The sun shone brighter now — it must've been around noon. The light was cold, almost sterile, like a reflection on ice. It fell across the floor in patches, dividing it into neat little squares.
I got more comfortable, relaxing against Quint's legs. His pants smelled faintly of soap.
He must've actually changed clothes for the guests' arrival. The fabric itched a little against my cheek, but I didn't move. I was too lazy to even pull my knees up to my chest.
Outside — not a single sound. No birds, no footsteps, no creak of snow.
Only the occasional gust of wind trembled faintly against the windowpanes,
as if the whole house floated in frozen time.
I closed my eyes.
The entire atmosphere felt like it was built for sleep.
But before I could sink into it completely...
"Ow!" I yelped, springing up. "What are you doing!?"
"I pulled out your gray hair."
"What? How could I even have one!?"
"Oh, you're right. It's normal," he said with a laugh, showing me the hair. "Well, then it's just a souvenir."
I clenched my fist and smacked his knee with all my might.
That was a mistake.
Pain shot through my hand all the way down to my feet — his kneecap felt like solid stone.
I quickly opened and closed my hand, trying to shake off the ache, which only made Quint laugh harder.
"Seems it'll be quite a while before you become strong."
"Oh, just shut up," I huffed, turning away.
Quint probably wanted to say something else when suddenly there was a knock at the door.
Normally, Euriel never bothered with such formalities when visiting, so it didn't immediately occur to me who it could be.
I glanced at Quint — he looked just as clueless as I did. Together we watched Emilia make her way from the kitchen to the door.
"Oh! Emi, let me get that!" Quint jumped up.
"Really? Now that I'm already here? How very courteous of you."
She added something else — too quietly for me to catch.
"Yori, come greet our guests," Emilia's voice called from the hallway.
Quint helped me down from the couch, and I slowly made my way to the door.
My legs were still too short for a proper pace.
As for running… well, that was something I'd reserved for the future — possibly a distant one.
The first person I saw was Euriel. His face was slightly flushed from the cold, and his shoulders were dusted with snow he hadn't even tried to brush off.
This time, he'd actually used the door — which struck me as very unlike him. Usually, he just appeared, as if walls and locks existed for everyone but him.
Honestly, this world should really pay more attention to its home security if they wanted protection from people like him.
Looking closer, I realized why Euriel had chosen to show up like an ordinary person this time.
Someone was standing beside him.
A small figure was half-hidden behind his back, hands tucked into the sleeves of a coat.
I leaned to the side, trying to get a better look.
Slender fingers reached up, tugging at a hood, and the fabric twisted around before slipping off her shoulders.
It was a girl.
Her green hair — the color of summer grass — was tied into a loose bun at the back, with a few strands falling toward her temples. Her eyes were the same shade, like young moss clinging to stone. Her lips were thin, barely visible against her cold-reddened face.
She wasn't looking at me, or at anyone else.
Her gaze drifted into the space ahead, as if we were all blurring into the background.
It was hard to tell from her expression, but I got the feeling she was older.
And not just because of her height — though she definitely stood taller than me, forcing me to tilt my head slightly upward.
I couldn't help but stare.
Who did she remind me of?
While I was caught up in that thought, Euriel spoke:
"And here's the birthday girl. Well… you certainly look older than last year."
After his odd greeting, his hand dropped to my head, melting a few snowflakes into my hair.
I grimaced and brushed them off quickly.
"Thanks… I guess."
"And this is Louisa — my daughter. I hope you two get along," he said, gently nudging the girl forward.
"Oh…" I managed, not sure what else to say.
I sighed. My voice sounded uncertain, as if even I didn't quite believe what was happening.
Daughter? …Since when?
At that moment, it didn't matter so much where I'd seen that girl before — what mattered far more was how she'd somehow ended up being Euriel's daughter.
Where had she been all these three years?
Not that he had to introduce us, but at least mentioning her existence — was that really so hard?
I felt my neck shrink into my shoulders, as if trying to hide in a shell and think everything through properly.
While I was lost in questions, I didn't notice when Louise and I were suddenly left alone.
I quickly glanced around and caught only the sight of Quint's back disappearing toward the kitchen.
My hand instinctively reached out after him — as if asking for help — but I quickly lowered it.
Louise stood silently.
Her face showed almost nothing — and that nothingness was, in a way, unsettling.
She didn't look particularly interested in friendship, or, frankly, in me.
Not that I was burning with excitement either, but just standing there was growing more and more awkward.
"Well, um… I'm Yori," I said, forcing a smile and offering my hand.
Her eyes slid down to it.
Her fingers twitched — as if wanting to curl up and hide inside her sleeves.
It probably looked rude, but she didn't even try to show a hint of friendliness.
"Mm." She gave a small nod, then quietly added, turning her face away,
"Happy birthday."
"Oh…"
I wasn't sure what surprised me more — the careless greeting or the sheer detachment behind it.
Anyway.
I dropped my hand and gave a weak nod, mirroring her tone.
"Mm."
Seeing no point in prolonging the introduction, I headed toward the kitchen.
Noticing Louise's hesitation, I gave her a silent nod — an unspoken "come along."
At that moment, she looked like a little duckling following someone it had mistakenly taken for its mother.
Still, her behavior seemed… appropriate.
She looked more mature than either Euriel or Quint, for that matter.
Or maybe it was just shyness? I don't know. Either way, it didn't really bother me.
Peeking into the kitchen, I saw the dining table completely covered with dishes Emilia had prepared.
Various aromas mixed into one dense wave, so rich it could make the whales in my stomach start rehearsing an opera.
The only thing the dishes had in common was that they were all clearly made for children — not too fried, not too spicy.
Amazing how much the menu had changed since last year.
"Hey, Quint, keep your hands to yourself. We're not starting without the birthday girl," Euriel said, pulling his arm back.
"Shouldn't you be on my side, Euriel? Brotherhood and all that?" Quint protested.
"Really?" Euriel's skeptical look said more than words ever could.
Though, honestly, I wasn't sure what it was saying.
At the moment, they were sitting side by side.
Despite their constant bickering, that variable always stayed the same.
Emilia, as always, sat at the head of the table — which wasn't surprising.
In a way, we were all under her heel.
Or rather… in her reliable hands.
As for me…
The chair next to me remained empty.
That probably wasn't a coincidence.
"Oh…"
It was all I could manage again, feeling my shoulders slump.
This day was rapidly breaking records for the number of sighs.
Anyway, with Emilia's help, I took my seat, and of course, Louise sat beside me.
Maybe we were already friends and I just hadn't realized it yet?
But one look at her detached expression told me — no. Not yet.
Well, whatever.
It seemed today was not only a day of discoveries, but also a day of dismissals.
If "day of dismissals" is even a legitimate expression.
Soon, the sweet aromas filled the kitchen, seeping into the farthest corners of my mind, pushing out the last bits of unease.
The warmth from the food brushed my face, leaving a pleasant tingling sensation.
My head slowly drooped over the table.
At that moment, I felt like a mouse drawn by the smell of cheese.
"My God. Surrounded by so many lovely ladies — I can't help but feel like the happiest man alive today," Quint laughed, raising his mug, from which a few drops splashed out.
Silence followed.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the joke was funny only to him.
Euriel quietly placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, like a teacher tired of his most hopeless student.
Emilia rolled her eyes.
Louise stared down at the table, as if she herself had already become part of it.
And me… well, all I could do was pity him.
Quint smirked, glanced around, and scratched the back of his head. His shoulders sank slightly, as if he'd just realized he'd said something wrong.
"What? Come on," he said, slapping his knee in an awkward attempt to bring the mood back. "Isn't this fun?"
No one answered. Only a wisp of steam rose from a bowl, as if trying to hide the awkward silence in a cloud of mist.
"Riiight," he drawled, "Yori, say that… you know… toast or something."
A sound escaped my throat — something between a hiccup and a gasp.
I didn't even have time to process what had just happened — that's how underhanded Quint's move was.
Was he seriously trying to drag me down with him on his sinking ship?
"If you want to say something, say it yourself. Why should she toast herself?"
Seeing that I wasn't about to answer, Emilia stepped in for me.
"Um… yeah, I just…" Quint mumbled, quickly hiding his face behind his mug and pretending to sip from it with exaggerated interest.
A very dignified way to shut him up.
Usually, knowing Quint, it took far more effort to make him surrender — but surprisingly, this time it worked.
I turned my gaze away from him and looked back at Louise.
She sat motionless. It seemed she was very good at blending in with her surroundings.
Although… could I even say that, given how often I'd been glancing at her?
Good question.
I knew staring like that wasn't polite, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen her somewhere before.
The way she tried to project disinterest just through her eyes.
Even the feigned relaxation in her tense shoulders — as if she'd been rehearsing it for years.
Had I seen her in a dream?
No, nonsense. None of my dreams ever called forth people I'd never met.
The only day I'd gone outside — where I could've seen children—
Something inside me twitched.
For a moment, I was back at that tree, watching a lonely girl sitting apart from the laughing crowd.
My hand rose slowly; my finger pointed straight at her — almost on its own.
"You…"
The word slipped out as a whisper. Barely audible. Even my lips hardly moved.
But in that gesture — in that strange spark of recognition — there was more noise than in any shout.
As they love to write in manga — this must be fate.
But is it really that simple?
Could something as vast as fate be reduced to a random meeting with someone who caught your eye for a moment?
Even now, I had no answer.
Louise sat hunched, her hands resting lifelessly on her knees.
She blinked and slowly turned her head toward me.
Her gaze slid down, then back up to my face.
With it came the sensation of invisible chains wrapping around me, anchoring me in place.
It wasn't magic.
Something strange flowed through my veins, hardening them like steel.
"So, you've met before?" Euriel's calm voice broke the silence.
"What? No. I just…"
I faltered, unsure how to explain.
I couldn't exactly say that I'd been watching her that day when she sat alone on the steps.
I wasn't watching, really… I just happened to be there.
That's not the same thing, right?
Unable to come up with anything, I just scratched my head and let out a nervous laugh.
Euriel gave a short nod — not in agreement, more like an acknowledgment of fact.
"I hope you understand a bit more now."
He wasn't addressing me directly, yet I knew those words were meant for me.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he calmly went back to eating, chatting with Quint and Emilia.
But Louise didn't look away.
Not accusingly — rather, studying me.
A cold bead of sweat slid down my spine.
Now that I remembered her, some things began to make sense.
She hadn't just been afraid to approach — she'd been an outcast.
It happens. I remembered it from school.
If you're quiet, or seem "different,"
if your parents are teachers, principals, anyone the kids "fear" —
you become the outsider.
They avoid you to stay out of trouble.
Or, worse, they suck up to you.
But they never really accept you.
Maybe it was something like that with her.
But even if that explained the loneliness, other questions remained.
If he had a daughter — where had she been all this time?
Why had he spent so many days and nights here with us, and not with her?
Why had no one even mentioned her in all these three years?
Even if I'd been too young to notice — is that really a reason to stay silent?
And now I'm supposed to reach out my hand to her?
The same hand I couldn't bring myself to extend that day?
I guess that's what they call destiny.
When the world turns its back on you, even those bound by blood don't come when you call.
Despite this "new life," some things hadn't changed —
I was still the only member of the family who didn't have the right to refuse.