🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 2
The Solalune family held a unique place within the Robati Empire.
The empire itself was but three centuries old, while the history of Solalune stretched back a full millennium.
In the age of the Holy Spirit Empire, the head of House Solalune had been granted a barren wasteland as a fief and appointed governor. By the blessing of the spirits, he transformed that desolate land into fertile greenery.
Even after the Holy Spirit Empire fell, the Solalune governors remained in the west, preserving their territory.
Countless invaders had tried to drive them out. Yet, each time, the spirits themselves thwarted those ambitions. In the end, the conquerors settled for acknowledging Solalune as vassals.
The Solalunes themselves had no desire to defy the will of the spirits by expanding their lands through conquest. Thus, their domain endured intact for centuries.
That was why, even now, the obsolete title of “Governor” still clung to their name.
Within the Robati Empire, however, they were ranked as dukes. Thus the family was known as both the Solalune Governors and the Solalune Dukes.
A mark of their bloodline was unmistakable: golden hair and emerald eyes. A sign that the spirits’ blessing yet flowed in their veins.
The former Lady Governor of Solalune had lost her husband a year prior. Even now, she wore mourning dress.
That was Lady Rose, slender and graceful, proud bearer of the Solalune gold and green.
When she saw Aila’s cropped hair, she nearly fainted.
“My word, Aila! Your hair! Are you thinking of entering a convent? Heavens above—she was already plain enough, and now this! Who will marry her now? Oh, oh…”
Thanks to Madam Poppy’s hand, Aila’s hair had been trimmed neatly at the nape of her neck. Yet Lady Rose’s shoulders trembled with fury.
“Always doing strange things. A child touched by spirits indeed… sometimes I wonder if you truly are mine.”
The words stabbed at Aila’s chest. She had tried so long to become the perfect Solalune daughter her mother desired, but she knew now such a thing was impossible.
Still, she straightened her back and declared:
“It’s fine, Mother. I’m still of Solalune blood. Do you truly think no one would ever take me in marriage? If it comes to that, I’ll simply enter a convent. It’s about time our house produced an abbess, isn’t it?”
Lady Rose gaped at her daughter as if she were some strange creature.
“Listen to this nonsense! Helen! Helen!”
She called for Solalune’s heir in a flurry, and Aila’s eyes went wide in fright.
Servants scurried about, and soon Helen entered the room.
“What is it, Mother?”
“Look at her hair!”
“Oh my…”
“Hideous! Fetch a wigmaker at once. And do you know what she said? She wants to enter a convent! A Solalune, in a convent! Unthinkable!”
Helen smiled calmly at her mother’s tantrum.
“Understood. Mother, please rest. Aila, come speak with me.”
Lady Rose let out a final huff, muttering about “a few slaps to set her straight,” before leaving with a maid’s support.
Left alone with her elder sister, Aila lowered her gaze.
Helen Solalune—eighteen years old, the acting head of the family.
Though she could not yet be formally recognized as Governor until her nineteenth year, by the spirits’ decree, she already bore the weight of countless duties.
Helen studied her little sister.
‘She’s never been troublesome before.’
At times, Helen even forgot Aila existed, so faint was her presence.
‘Is this rebellion?’
She considered summoning the wigmaker and giving Aila a scolding, but then her sister raised her head.
“Um… Helen.”
“Yes?”
“Am I… truly not adopted?”
“What?”
Helen blinked. Surely this was a jest? But then she saw Aila’s desperate smile, the way she clutched her fists, her eyes trembling with plea.
Helen’s arms slowly uncrossed. She sat down beside her sister.
“Of course you’re a Solalune. Of course you’re my sister.”
Helen spoke without the faintest trace of humor. She meant every word. Relief washed over Aila like air filling her lungs.
“Really? Hehe…”
Her laughter was nervous, but genuine. For the first time, Helen realized her little sister had been hurt—truly hurt.
“I’m sorry, Aila.”
“What?”
Helen gave a wry smile.
“I shouldn’t have said those things. None of us should have. I didn’t think you could be wounded by it.”
Their father had said it. Their mother had said it. Their siblings had laughed at it. Always, the jest: You’re not really ours.
Helen brushed Aila’s bangs aside with a gentle hand.
“Why did you cut your hair?”
Aila hesitated, stunned that her sister was listening instead of scolding. Helen was radiant up close—milk-white skin, long lashes, lips like pomegranate, golden hair glowing like a halo.
She was dazzling. She was the sister Aila had only ever admired from afar, through gossip and rumor.
And suddenly, Aila realized—
‘It’s just like with Sada and Luca. She’s close, but I don’t know her at all.’
So she spoke honestly.
“I’ll never have hair like yours. No matter how long I tried.”
Helen’s eyes widened.
“Your hair is beautiful too, Aila! It shines like walnut wood.”
But Aila only smiled awkwardly. That wasn’t what she needed to hear.
“I mean… I always wanted to be like you. But I can’t. I can only be myself. So I thought… if I cut away the old me, maybe I can live differently. Maybe this is… a declaration.”
Helen listened quietly, then sighed.
“I understand. Cutting your hair shows your resolve, doesn’t it?”
She wrapped an arm around Aila’s shoulder. Startled, Aila froze. No one in her family had ever touched her so warmly.
“What is it you want, then?”
“…A real friend.”
“A friend?”
“Yes. Because… change comes through people too.”
Helen considered, then smiled.
“Very well. Leave that to me. As it happens, the timing is perfect. I’ll even speak to Mother.”
Aila’s eyes widened in awe.
“Now I see—you’re braver than you look. Acting so boldly without hesitation… that’s your strength. But Aila, remember: a little foresight never hurts.”
“Yes, Helen.”
Aila nodded meekly, then hesitated.
“Um, Sister… could I wear Paracel’s old clothes?”
“You mean—men’s clothes?”
“Yes.”
“…Why?”
“I’ve given up on romance.”
“…What?”
“And friendship grows more naturally between the same sex, doesn’t it?”
“Wearing breeches won’t make you a boy.”
“Still!”
Helen massaged her temple. It was far too simplistic. Yet… with her hair cropped short, Aila would look strange in lace and silk.
“Very well. You’re not of age yet, and within our territory, it should be harmless.”
“Thank you!”
Aila’s radiant smile startled Helen. She realized—this was the first time she’d seen her little sister truly smile.
Helen reached out and stroked Aila’s head tenderly.
