A portrait hung above Elena’s and my head.
The woman in the painting sat gracefully in a chair, her light brown hair cascading over her shoulders.
Her green eyes—soft and clear, like polished eralds—seed to shine even through the old oil and canvas. There was a warmth in her expression, a quiet comfort that the artist had sohow managed to capture perfectly.
In front of stood a trembling boy—her mirror image.
I glanced around the room. It was quiet. Too quiet. No attendants, no footsteps, no one else but us.
He must’ve gotten lost. Kraus Manor was enormous, with endless corridors that could confuse even adults. Still, that was exactly why attendants were supposed to stay with the children.
The suits of armor lining the halls weren’t just for decoration—they were heavy enough to crush soone if they fell. Even a grown man would think twice before wandering alone here.
So why was Alphonse by himself? And where were his attendants?
No matter how much he would grow in the future, right now he was just a seven-year-old child.
I felt my brows knit together before I even realized it.
"B-brother... um..." Alphonse stamred, his voice shaking as his eyes darted nervously up at .
That’s when I noticed what he was holding.
The object in his small hands was too large to be hidden completely. Through the gaps between his fingers, I saw the glint of a golden chain.
A necklace—one engraved with our family’s emblem.
I knew what it was imdiately.
The unveiled portrait of our mother, Isilia Pavillion. The faint traces of her life still lingering in this room. And now, the locket in Alphonse’s trembling hands.
It all began to make sense.
I rubbed my forehead and sighed softly before lowering myself to one knee, bringing my eyes level with his.
"Alphonse," I said gently, "you shouldn’t co here alone without an attendant. What if you get hurt?"
His lips quivered as he lowered his head. "...Sorry."
"Do you always co at this hour?"
"..."
Alphonse didn’t answer. But he didn’t need to—his silence was enough.
I always visited the Isilia Pavilion at a fixed ti. Today wasn’t one of those days. If it hadn’t been for Elena, this place would’ve been empty right now.
So why was Alphonse here? Alone, sneaking around, and clearly avoiding ?
It wasn’t as if entry was forbidden.
...Father.
I had a vague idea of what was going on. There was only one person in this family who could make Alphonse do sothing like this.
I turned my head toward Elena, who was standing quietly beside .
Our eyes t.
She smiled softly, then stepped forward to greet Alphonse.
"I saw you last night, didn’t I? My na is Elena Edelweiss."
Alphonse hesitated for a mont before opening his mouth. Despite his age, he’d been raised with proper manners. Ignoring a lady’s greeting would be rude, and he knew that.
"Ah—um, I-I’m Alphonse Kraus. And, uh... you can just call Alphonse. S-since you’re my brother’s fiancée."
"Yes, I see. Lord Alphonse."
Her gentle voice and smile made Alphonse’s ears turn bright red.
The power of beauty was terrifying—she had him flustered in an instant.
I gently took Alphonse’s hand.
"Elena, I think I should take Alphonse back to his room. It’s unfortunate, but perhaps we should end our tour for today."
"Oh, that’s a sha," she replied, though her smile didn’t fade. "But yes, we should. Let’s co back tomorrow."
"I’m sorry... because of ..." Alphonse muttered, his gaze falling.
I brushed his hair lightly. "Don’t be. I should be the one apologizing."
It seed like he wanted to say more—probably about what happened earlier—but I wasn’t the one he needed to talk to.
A dull ache began to form in my head again. First the engagent with Elena, and now whatever this was with Alphonse.
Was I the only one in this household with problems? Apparently not.
Ti had started moving again, and all the events that should’ve already happened were crashing down on at once.
---
As we walked back through the corridor, Alphonse’s small hand tightened around mine. He hadn’t said a word since we left the pavilion. The silence between us felt heavier than usual, almost suffocating.
His steps were slower, hesitant—like he wanted to speak but couldn’t bring himself to.
"Alphonse," I finally said, breaking the quiet. "You went to the pavilion because of Father, didn’t you?"
He flinched slightly. That was all the answer I needed.
"...It’s fine," I said, trying to sound calm. "You don’t have to tell everything. I already understand."
He looked up at with wide, anxious eyes. "I didn’t an to hide it from you, brother... Father just said—"
"It’s all right," I cut him off gently. "I know what Father’s like."
He lowered his head again, biting his lip.
We reached his room before long. I opened the door, and the faint scent of ink and parchnt greeted us. His desk was covered in papers—notes, sketches, things a child his age shouldn’t be so burdened by.
"Rest for a bit," I said. "You’ve done enough for today."
He nodded weakly and climbed onto his bed. The mont his head touched the pillow, his small shoulders relaxed, like he’d been carrying the world on his back.
I stood there for a mont, watching him breathe evenly. The ache in my chest deepened.
Alphonse was too young to be caught in Father’s sches. Too innocent.
Closing the door quietly, I walked down the corridor alone. The sunlight through the windows felt dimr than usual, and my thoughts grew heavier with every step.
Elena’s smile earlier lingered in my mind—warm, almost blinding—and I wondered if she noticed how fragile Alphonse looked. Probably not. To her, this was just another unfamiliar place, another day in her new life as my fiancée.
I couldn’t bla her. None of this was her fault.
Still, a faint sense of unease clung to .
If Father had started moving pieces already... then it ant the real story was about to begin.
And once the story began, there would be no stopping it.
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