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Chapter 13
It was dawn, before the sun had even risen.
Aria awoke to the sound of someone tapping—pecking—somewhere nearby.
‘What…?’
The sound was coming from the window.
Half-asleep, she staggered out of bed, rubbing her eyes as she approached. Just then, the noise sounded again.
“Coo-coo!”
Oh?
Aria’s eyes widened as she threw the window open.
The white messenger pigeon she had seen before swooped in a graceful circle around her, then settled lightly on her shoulder.
“Hello. We meet again.”
She remembered how the pigeon had helped her before she collapsed from fever.
Aria lifted a finger and stroked the bird’s head.
The pigeon closed its eyes tight and tilted its head into her touch.
‘Wolves, people, pigeons… seems everyone likes getting their head petted.’
Aria let out a small, unconscious laugh.
“Look at me, talking to a bird. I must look ridiculous.”
At that, the pigeon gently pecked her finger—not enough to hurt, just as if to say, “Did you just insult me?”
Aria blinked and clutched her “attacked” finger.
“Coo-coo!”
“Huh? W-wait?”
Flapping its wings, the pigeon pointed its leg toward her.
There was a note tied to it—a note Aria had never seen before.
Hastily urged on by the impatient bird, she untied it. On the paper was neat, elegant handwriting:
**[When the moment came to die, I found myself reluctant.
The spring you gifted me was too dazzling.
How warm will summer be, I wondered.
How abundant will autumn be?
How white will winter’s paradise shine?
I kept thinking of it. So somehow… I will endure. As long as my life allows.
—To the fairy of spring—]**
Shockingly, it was a letter from the Grand Duchess.
Aria read it once… twice…
‘She sent it directly to my window.’
The moment she realized that, she slammed the window shut and squatted on the floor, clutching her chest. Her heart pounded violently.
Had she been found out?
‘No, maybe the pigeon just flew to me on its own. I did send it, after all…’
She reopened the note and stared at the words.
“Fairy of spring.”
Was that her way of saying she wouldn’t pry into Aria’s true identity?
‘This feels… strange.’
All she wanted was to do something, anything, to stop the Valentine Tragedy.
But she had never expected to receive a letter like this.
‘She said she would try to endure.’
It wasn’t a plea begging for rescue, demanding to be saved immediately.
It was a brave declaration:
You showed me hope, so I will thank you by surviving however I can.
A woman I’ve never even met in person.
A woman who knows she will likely die soon…
Aria felt a fierce determination rise within her.
She wanted—needed—to save the Grand Duchess.
Immediately, she ran to the garden.
After pacing back and forth in hesitation, she plucked a single freesia bloom.
She tied her reply to the pigeon’s leg and placed the flower gently in its beak before sending it toward the sky.
[I will show you everything. Spring, summer, autumn, winter—
and when the seasons come full circle and spring returns once more.]
* * *
She needed to find a place to practice singing in secret.
That was the first thing Aria thought once her fever broke.
After blooming dozens of cherry trees with the “Song of Life,” she had painfully realized just how weak a body of a ten-year-old truly was.
Her siren abilities were intact—but her body couldn’t keep up.
‘If I try using the Song of Healing or the Song of Ruin now… the shock alone might kill me.’
But to cure the Grand Duchess, she had no choice.
Steeling herself, she held up a card:
[My fever is gone.]
“No, Miss. You still seem to have a bit of heat.”
Dana felt Aria’s cheek and neck. Aria pretended not to hear and casually tried to stand up.
“You should rest one more day—hello? Miss? Are you listening?”
Aria tried to escape but was immediately caught. After a few futile attempts to shake off Dana’s hold, she looked up at her with sparkling, pleading eyes.
“No. You need absolute rest.”
“……”
“Don’t look at me with those puppy eyes.”
“……”
“I said no!”
“……”
“Haah…”
All Aria had done was stare, but Dana sighed deeply, lifting her hands in surrender.
“Where do you want to go?”
[The garden.]
Currently, Aria was banned from flower-viewing due to excessive overprotection.
“…Fine. Just the garden.”
Dana reluctantly agreed, mostly thanks to Aria’s persistent insistence that she did not have pollen allergies.
“Be back before dark.”
[Okay.]
“And if you get lost, ask anyone nearby for help.”
[Okay.]
“No need to hesitate—everyone will be happy to assist you.”
[Okay.]
The reminders continued endlessly.
Aria had to shake her “Okay” card many times before Dana finally let her go.
Aria wandered the garden, pretending to admire flowers while actually scouting for a place to sing.
A place where I can sing without being overheard…
Then—
Suddenly, something rustled behind her—a fast, charging presence. Aria spun around, startled, but too late.
A creature pounced on her like a predator attacking prey.
“Woof!”
“Kyaa!”
Her heart nearly flew out of her chest.
Aria shrieked softly as she fell on her bottom.
“……”
A large wolf sat in front of her, tail wagging excitedly.
She stared at it in disbelief.
Good thing she was alone—what would have happened if someone had been with her?
“Hey! Bad. No pouncing.”
She flicked the wolf lightly on the nose.
It probably didn’t even sting, but the wolf whimpered dramatically, ears and tail drooping.
It even knows how to fake being pitiful…
She meant to scold it more, but it was too cute. A laugh slipped out.
“How did you even get here?”
Aria dusted off her clothes, checked that no one was around, and whispered:
The wolf barked twice.
“You ran here because… you missed me?”
“Woof-woof-wow!”
He… seemed serious.
Aria watched it uncertainly—somehow, she understood what he meant.
‘Can I really communicate with animals?’
“Shake.”
She held out her hand. A paw landed neatly on her palm.
“Lie down.”
The wolf flopped onto the ground instantly.
Aria was amazed—beyond sensing emotions, she could actually talk to animals.
No wonder her father had feared having any animals near her.
She thought of Count Cortez screaming hysterically, ordering all living creatures around her to be exterminated, and let out a bitter smile.
“Is there a place in this castle where no one interferes?”
“Woof!”
“Where your leader is?”
“Woof-woof!”
The den of the wolf pack’s leader.
That sounded like exactly the kind of hidden place she needed to practice singing.
Aria climbed onto the wolf’s back, wrapping her arms around its neck.
“Lead the way.”
The wolf shot forward like an arrow.
To the leader of the wolves.
To the Duke of Valentine.
“……”
“……”
Aria and the Grand Duke locked eyes in silence.
Only the wolf wagged its tail furiously, panting as if asking for praise after a job well done.
“W-what is this…”
Dwayne, the Duke’s personal knight, who had drawn his sword thinking it was an attack, awkwardly sheathed it again.
Aria clung tightly to the wolf’s neck, staring around in confusion.
This is… the Duke’s office, isn’t it?
She had noticed something was odd earlier—
While riding the wolf, the scenery had kept changing rapidly… and the main castle kept getting closer.
Definitely not part of the plan…
“Hm?”
The Duke—Tristan Valentine—took the cigar from his mouth and slipped it between his fingers, eyeing Aria with great interest.
“I didn’t expect you to ride my hunting dog as if it were a horse.”
And then—
Aria flew.
No—she was lifted by the scruff of her neck, dangling from the Duke’s hand.
She clung to her worn bag like it was her lifeline, eyes darting anxiously.
Her open distress only made the Duke’s smile deepen.
“I must ask you politely—please treat my loyal hound gently.”
You’re the one who should treat me gently!
Aria thought resentfully as she dangled helplessly in the air.
The Grand Duke clearly did not understand the meaning of polite.
“So, young lady—what business do you have with this devil?”
He exhaled smoke leisurely, his tone polite yet unmistakably crooked—
the tone of someone who absolutely did not like the idea of the girl who would someday marry his son.
He seemed like a thoroughly unpleasant person.
‘I can’t say I came here to practice singing…’
Aria rummaged through her bag and took out a card.
Even as she wrote, struggling midair, the Duke simply stared at her.
‘Your Grace?’
Too stiff.
‘Lord of the house?’
But Aria wasn’t a servant.
Even if only in name, she was now part of the Valentine household.
If she lowered herself too much, he would not take it well.
After much thought, she finally settled on a form of address.
She held up the card right in front of the Duke’s nose—so close it nearly brushed him. Out of spite, just a little.
[Father.]
And below that—
[I came because I missed you.]
