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Chapter 32
The little boy opened the tower door and slipped inside.
Though it had been locked, he had secretly taken the key from his father’s study.
He climbed the countless iron steps of the tower.
At first it was exhausting, but once he got used to it, it was nothing.
His heart thumped with excitement as he went up.
Just a little higher and he could see his mother—there was no hardship in that.
Leonhart followed the child’s small back.
He must have made up his mind around this time.
Young Leonhart couldn’t understand Sylvester’s way of thinking.
Of course he was angry that the curse, born from the wrongdoing of Archduke Arthur Spencer three generations ago, continued to plague their line.
It was infuriating that Sylvester had never welcomed the woman he loved.
But even so, there was no need to imprison her. If he couldn’t love and only hated, he could have just ignored her.
“Die somewhere out of sight”—that was why Sylvester had locked Mother Rita away.
Before long, the boy reached the top of the iron tower, easily scaling the dark stairwell.
“Mother! I’m here. It’s Leonhart.”
When he opened the door, his mother, bright as sunlight, greeted him.
“My darling. My brave little lion.”
The boy ran into her open arms.
Though she wore a mask that hid her face, she was surely smiling.
Her embrace was always warm.
Whenever he was held, he buried his nose into her and nuzzled close.
“Was it hard coming all this way?”
“No. I came to see you! Ah—this is for you. I don’t know its name, but it’s pretty.”
“Oh… thank you, as always.”
Mother closed her eyes and breathed in the flower’s scent.
Leonhart simply watched her in silence.
She looked so peaceful and gentle that he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
Mother… how is it that you never seemed sad? How? Why?
A breeze drifted through the open window, scattering her red hair.
“I hate Father.”
Young Leonhart would sometimes confess his hatred for his father.
Whenever he did, Mother would gently stroke his hair.
Suddenly, watching this memory, Leonhart felt his own hands strangely empty.
He couldn’t tell why.
“My darling, your father…”
Whenever she mentioned him, her eyes grew sorrowful.
“He only hates me because the woman he truly loved had the same hair color as mine.
When you look deeper, he’s actually a very pitiful man.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t hate your father too much.”
“I can’t. I hate him for locking you away like this.”
“My dear…”
Leonhart leaned against the wall, arms crossed, unable to take his eyes off the mother he so longed for.
“My darling, will you make one promise to your mother?”
“What is it?”
“When you one day meet your bride… please, don’t hate her.”
Her voice was so sad that Leonhart had no choice but to promise.
“I won’t ask you to love her as you love me. Only… don’t hate her.”
“I promise.”
My cursed bride.
Who was that again…?
Leonhart’s mind grew hazy, as though wrapped in fog.
There was something… I’m sure of it…
Something small and warm he once held close.
Someone he always carried in his heart.
Who was it? There was something I never wanted to let go of…
Something brazen and unguarded, honest to its feelings.
Even without seeing the face, he could always tell by the voice.
Unlike everyone else who feared him, this someone approached without a trace of fear.
Whenever he poked at them, they reacted instantly, making him want to tease them more.
The more he looked, the more he wanted to hide them away, to keep them from anyone else’s reach.
At first it had been a game, but slowly it became real.
Being together was fun.
Even pointless chatter felt good.
He wanted any excuse to stay by their side.
Ah… no. I can’t remember anything.
The fog in his head thickened. Leonhart gave up trying to recall.
Instead, he chose what was right in front of him—his mother.
He let go of the more important thought.
“…Mother.”
Green vines, the color of a swamp, wrapped around Leonhart’s body.
They crept from his ankles to his thighs, his waist, and up to his chest.
Caught by the great tree, he could no longer move.
The vines slithered like snakes, tightening around him.
“Mother…”
Her name slipped endlessly from his lips.
And he smiled, as if he were happy.
“Ugh! This squirrel body is so annoying!”
Stamping her feet, Calli scurried after the girl but finally gave up, collapsing onto the ground.
The trees were so dense she couldn’t see the sky.
The fog was thick enough to block everything around her.
“S-stop…”
Impossible.
It seemed hopeless to keep chasing the girl.
Calli regretted not following Leonhart instead.
Maybe she should turn back? She glanced over her shoulder at the path she’d taken.
“…No way.”
The trail was completely gone.
“No way. No way.”
Panting, she pushed herself up. Dirt and leaves clung to her back, but she didn’t care.
To her surprise, the fog began to lift.
“Hey, Michaela.”
At the same time, she heard the bright, lively voice of the girl she’d been following.
“Did you really see it? Really?”
Then came another girl’s voice—lower and steadier.
“I told you I did. How can you live not believing me? Rita, how are you raising that child?”
Soon the mist cleared completely, and Calli’s eyes widened at the scene.
Around a large log, three girls sat by a crackling fire.
Every one of them had red hair and black eyes.
There was the freckled girl Calli had seen in her dream, the pretty girl who had led her here, and another girl she’d never met.
They all looked to be around the same age, though the freckled girl seemed the oldest, the stranger next, and the pretty one the youngest.
“I’m the strongest one here—of course I could see it!”
“Then maybe I’ll see it next time…”
“Idiot. Of course you will.”
The freckled girl smirked as she spoke sharply.
“Because we’re Asteri.”
Asteri? What’s that?
Calli crept closer.
They didn’t seem to notice her at all.
Taking advantage, she sat right between the freckled girl and the unfamiliar one.
So many redheads… Is the real Calli among them?
Sure enough, the freckled girl—Michaela—pointed to the pretty girl and called her name.
“Silly Calli, can’t you hear the voices of the stars yet?”
“N-no… I can, but… not very well.”
“Rita, what’s with her? She’s hopeless.”
“Hmph, Rita… Michaela’s scolding me again.”
Little Calli hugged the girl called Rita tightly, while Michaela only scoffed.
Michaela, Rita… who are they? Those names never appeared in the original story.
Calli kept her gaze on the young Calli, a smile tugging at her lips.
Ah, I hope she grows back into a human soon.
If she’s this pretty as a child, she’ll be gorgeous when she grows up.
Good. Calli had always been beautiful.
It was reassuring she hadn’t turned out plain.
“Rita, don’t make me repeat myself. Teach Calli properly.”
“She’s still little. Please understand.”
Michaela frowned in frustration, while Rita held Calli protectively.
If Michaela was about sixteen, Rita looked around ten, and Calli about seven.
They don’t seem to be sisters…
The squirrel hopped onto the log behind them.
All three had red hair and black eyes.
But their faces and the way they spoke were too different to be siblings.
They shared only that striking coloring.
Michaela’s hair was long and straight, Rita’s was a short bob, and Calli’s was long and curly.
“Anyway, I saw it first. You two pay attention.”
“Michaela, be careful. Even if it’s to protect our land… it’s dangerous. I have a bad feeling.”
“Oh, Rita, you worry too much. Just look at Calli—like that little fool, live without overthinking.”
“That’s mean, Michaela! I’m not thoughtless!”
Young Calli and Michaela bickered, while Rita eventually burst into laughter.
Though Calli didn’t fully understand their conversation, one thing was clear:
They called themselves the Asteri.
She didn’t know what that meant exactly, but all three shared red hair and black eyes—perhaps that was their defining trait.
If that’s the case… could Levi be connected too?
That child also has red hair and black eyes.
Maybe Levi was somehow linked to the Asteri.
She would have to ask him when she returned to the mansion.
Calli leapt down from the log as their images began to fade.
“…Looks like it’s time to go back.”
