'Is he going to name me?'
The windows gaped open. The breeze was gentle, yet the child flinched beneath it, his bare neck now exposed after he got a new haircut. It wasn't unbearably cold, just cold enough to remind him that something was missing.
'Not that I care.' A long sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping slightly. 'He probably won't choose anything different from the original one, anyway.'
"Do you like it, Young Master?" Asked one of the maids, her voice as sweet as sugar, but eyes narrowed with caution.
They dressed him like he was made of porcelain. The fabric was fine, maybe too fine, considering it was gliding over his skin like water. The family crest embodied on his clothes shined brighter than any fire.
It sure made him uncomfortable.
"Yes, yes..." He nodded, lips curling upward like a child trying to remember how smiles worked.
'No matter how you dress me up, I still look like a stick with buttons. What a waste of silk, really.'
The clothes hung to his frame like they were tailored perfectly for someone half his weight. They must've searched hard to find them, but their effort only pointed out the truth more clearly, he was malnourished and there was really no way to fix it by trying to hide it.
"Young Master."
'At least this shade red suits me. It's dark, like dried wine.'
"Young Master?"
'Are they going to stuff me into these every time I leave the room? Sounds troublesome.'
"Young Master!"
He startled, breath catching. "Y-yeah?" The smile that followed was crooked and a little too quick.
'Heck, I'm still not used to being called that.'
"We should depart now. What do you think, Young Master?" Viola was staring, eyes narrowed, puzzled.
"Alright, let's go." He moved stiffly toward the door, like a doll with half-wound joints.
On the stairs, a few of maids rushed past, wind trailing behind them. One nearly grazed his shoulder.
'What's their deal?'
There was something in the air, sharp and tense, like a suppressed scream. Even he could feel it. In their steps. Their dripping sweat. Their eyes.
But he didn't have the luxury to worry about other people right now.
"Young Master, we're here." Viola's voice trembled, her glance constantly going back toward the empty staircase. "I still can't enter the garden, but soon, maybe. Since I'm your assigned maid. Just for today...you'll have to go alone."
He exhaled through his nose. The air clung warmer to his skin, almost sticky.
Was this anxiety?
"Alright, I don't mind—"
But she was already gone. How was she so fast?
"Ah..."
He didn't call out for Viola—she'd said herself she never had permission to enter, so there was no way she knew what lay beyond. His hand hovered against the door for a moment, breath slowly steadying. Then, he pushed it open.
The door opened into a place that looked like heaven.
'Seriously, this garden really feels like a world of its own.'
As soon as he stepped through the entrance, the air changed. It became softer, warmer, filled with the sweet scent of flowers and something magical he couldn't quite name.
Stone paths twisted gently through the garden, lined with roses in every color. Several tall trees with silver-green leaves stood quietly above, casting cool shadows.
In the center, there was a clear pond with small golden fish gliding just under the surface. A marble statue of a woman with wings stood at the edge, half-covered in climbing ivy, as if nature was trying to keep her secret.
'This is completely different from what I've seen outside.'
It didn't feel hollow. Someone had loved this place once. Maybe still did.
He crouched beside a blue flower, petal thin and almost transparent, its scent oddly familiar, probably it reminded him of a scent from his previous life. Something that looked like a butterfly flied past. For a moment, he forgot to be tense.
His lips naturally curled upwards, his eyes narrowing slightly.
'What could be the name of this flower?' He reached out with his hand, almost touching the petal.
Rustle.
The child jumped up, immediately looking around, his lips now pursed, almost trembling.
'W, what was that?' He looked around, taking a few hesitant steps back.
Then, suddenly, from the other side, he saw the silhouette of a man. "Greetings, Young Master."
He turned, that was the Archduke's assistant he met the other day, Lord Matthew—yes, the boy finally remembered his name—stood with his sweet smile.
He let out a sigh of relief. 'Ah, that was just him...honestly, that scared me to death!'
Nonetheless, the boy offered a polite bow. "Greetings, Lord Matthew."
"You don't have to be so formal with me, Young Master." He replied gently. "Just call me Matthew, if you'd like."
He didn't answer that. There was still something odd about people who knelt just to say hello, to not mention how awkward it felt for him afterwards.
"You, you can rise now." He muttered.
Matthew chuckled. "As you wish." He straightened. "Shall I take you to His Grace?"
They were walking together, but Matthew kept adjusting his pace, trying too hard to match the child's smaller strides.
'Ah, there he is.'
The child stopped, bowing low. "Greetings, Your Grace."
No reply.
"You can sit."
'You could at least answer properly.'
Without a word, Matthew lifted him gently and placed him on the tall chair.
A porcelain cup sat before him, filled to the brim with milk. He frowned, nose crinkling.
'I hated milk. Couldn't even drink it since I was intolerant. Wonder if this body can.'
"They informed me you weren't feeling well." The man said, his gaze cool and unreadable as he gestured toward the cup with a slight nod. "I was told children tend to like milk when they're ill. I had some prepared."
'You have a son, don't you? Shouldn't you already know this stuff?'
Still, he didn't dare voice his mortal thoughts, only nodding cautiously. "Thank you. I like milk." He wrapped his hands around the cup and drank it all in one go, not pausing even once.
It left a strange warmth in his throat, still, as expected, he absolutely hated it.
The man tapped his fingers on the table. "Cassiel."
The boy froze and blinked a few times, as if he didn't understand.
"That's the name I chose for you, child."