—Do you believe it?
—I…—She tried to come up with a response as her eyes widened in somewhat panic.
—Hehehe.—He smiled at her.—I'm just kidding! It's not actually true! It's all rumors and hearsay, embellished to make the tale more exciting. The rumors only started because of how it used to look. If the mansion truly begot misfortune, then we wouldn't still be here. And it wouldn't explain how my grandfather died. Do you know how he passed away?—His question actually sounded lighthearted.
—No…—Her response was simple, her expression calmed.—How did he?
—Inside a lovely lady.
—...What?—Her eyes widened again.
—Believe it or not, that was how he died–together with a young, beautiful woman. His time ran out while he was making love to her, they say. A… rather crude way to go.
—But he was hardly misfortunate.—A tiny smile appeared on her face.
—What'd I tell you?—He smiled, but then the smile disappeared… Ah!
—Yes?
—Just so you know,—He squeezed his eyes a bit.—I, uh, I didn't inherit my grandfather's propensity for such base behavior! I'm pure of body and spirit, dedicated wholly to my studies, so…
—...Ahah.—The tiny smile appeared on her face again, as her gaze turned to the floor.
"Hey, she laughed."—Mell couldn't help but smil himself at the thought.
—Hehe… M-My apologies.—She half-closed her eyes.
—N-No, it's fine.—He smiled at her.—A-Anyway, we were talking about the mansion, right? I've always thought it was kind of a strange place myself. That dress you're wearing, it was found here after my grandfather bought it. You don't see that kind of design around these parts, so I'm guessing it was probably imported. The architecture is really old-fashioned too, which must have caught Grandfather's eye. When he announced his plans to buy it, the entire family opposed his decisions, but he refused to budge. Renovation upon renovation gave the mansion new life, but of all his work, he was most fond of the roses in the garden. He collected species from all across the world, and every time he got a new one, he would summon gardeners to arrange and grow them. It took incredibly long to complete. There was even some that wouldn't grow in the climate of this land, but Grandfather refused to give in.
—He truly loved roses.—A tiny smile returned back again.
—Me, I don't really get how someone could be so impassioned about them. It's just embarrassing every time someone calls this house "Rose Manor."
—Perhaps the roses were meant for someone.
—What?
—I am simply speculating. Roses make wonderful gifts, after all.
—Indeed, they do.—He smiled warmly.—If you like roses as much as Nellie, then you're welcome to go see them for yourself. Pick as many as you'd like. If anyone asks, just say I gave you permission.
—I…
—Don't be shy. I'm sure it'll get tiring if all you do is work.
—No, I just…—Her glaze fell to the floor.—I'm, um. sensitive… to sunlight.
—...Oh?—His expression turned thoughtful.—That's unusual. Perhaps that explains why you're so pale. I had no idea. That sounds rough. And your skin is so pretty too.
—You… don't seem terribly surprised.
—Wha– Oh, no, I'm very much surprised.—He smiled at her.—Or would you have preferred a more dramatic response?
—No… I just… I expected you to find it… disturbing. I'm sensitive to sunlight and can hardly spend any time outside. That makes me sound like some kind of demonic creature…
—Ahaha.
—...?—Her eyes widened and darted to Mell.
—Oh, you worry too much. There's not a monster in the world as sweet as you. Ahh!—The thought suddenly occurred in his mouth.
—Y-Yes?
—Are the other maids teasing you, perhaps?—His expression was concerned.—That black-haired one especially. She's… how should I put it… a little frightening. Almost as if she has a steel heart, or something. She's impenetrable. Right, she's one of Mother's maids too, isn't she? Now I'm even more worried. "Since you refuse to follow my instructions, you are henceforth hellspawn!"—He said in mock-command.—I can imagine her saying that.
—Hehe.—Her eyes fell to the floor one more time.
"Oh, and again."—Mell smiled at the look of the maid.
—I-I'm very sorry.
—No need to apologize.—He tried to pay it off light.—In fact, I wish you'd laugh more.
—Umm…—After a silence, there's a small smile on her face.—she's actually very kind to me, and everything she does, she does with incredible precision and efficiency. She looks so young, and yet she has such skill. How long has she been here, in the mansion?
—Actually, uh, she's been here for quite some time, but I don't know exactly how long. No one knows how old she is. It's kind of creepy…
—I… I have never once considered her such.
—S-Sorry, you're right. It's bad manners to speak ill of others.—He felt a bit uneasy.
"Either way, she still scares me. It's like there's no light in her eyes–or like her smiles are all faked. That doesn't make her any less pretty, though."—Mell thought during the prolonged silence
—"Ah… the conversation died. I have to think of something else to talk about…"
—Um–
—...Um.
—Er– Oh, uh, yes?! You can ask me anything!
—Does the master–your father, Lord Mell–often retire from the mansion? I have not seen him around…
—Oh… yeah. Father frequently returns home. This mansion is actually our secondary house. Why do you ask, though?
—I was… just curious. Nothing more.
—O-Oh? … Um–
—Um.
—Yes?! What is it?
—One of the maids asked to see me, so I should be on my way, If you'll excuse me…
—Wha… A-All right… See you later, then…
—...Goodbye.
—Oh right, one moment!
—...?
—Since you're sensitive to the sun, I can pick some roses from time to time for you… F-For you to decorate your room!
—Lord Mell…
—Th-That's all. Sorry for holding you up!
"Aaahhhh… Why am I so bad at this?! She definitely thinks I'm obnoxious… Argh, I want to hide under a rock. I want to reserve and try this over again!
—Roses…—She muttered as Mell disappeared.—are not becoming of me… He is too kind.
…..
—You have my thanks, Father. And I apologize for being late today.
—Now there's something unusual–you not being punctual.—The priest noticed in Mell. Maybe next we'll go a whole month without rain. Do have mercy on next year's crops, Mell.
—You hyperbolize, Father.—Mell smiled.
—So, did something nice happen?
—Huh?
—You look like you're in good spirits.
—D-Do I? No, uh, nothing…—Mell felt uneasy.
—Something did happen, didn't it?
—I-It's all over my face, isn't it?
—People prefer an open book to a face of stone.
—So it is…
—People may prefer it, but it's not a good trait to have for social engagements.
—What?
—Not the kind of engagements you'll be having, anyway.—Mell respond with silence.—Hahaha, I'm sorry. Don't look so dejected. For now, at least, there's nothing wrong with that. So tell me, what has you in such a joyous mood, Mell?
—You torment me so, Father.—He managed a tiny smile.—We've taken on another maid. Y-You know how that goes, right? Someone new comes and things get lively for a while. All the excitement has gotten to me–that's all.
—Ohoho.
—Wh-Why are you looking at me like that?—His gaze darted to the side.
—No reason, no reason.—The priest reassured.—So, what family does the little lady come from?
—Oh, uh, I don't actually know.
—You don't know?
—I was going to ask her, but I missed my chance. Father has returned home… and I can't speak to Mother.
—I see… She's caught your eye, has she?
—Yeah, she has.—Mell wasn't trying to get away from the question.
—But the truth is, you're more than just interested in her, are you not?
—What– No, I–!
—Hahaha.
—Ahaha… You truly do enjoy tormenting me. Well, I should be getting home now.
—Mell.
—Yes?
—Make certain you find out where she's from. If you're genuinely interested in her… it's your responsibility to determine if she's actually suitable for you.
—Thank you, and excuse me.—He finally answered after some time of silence.
…..
—It doesn't matter if she's from an esteemed family or not.—Mell said to himself now outside.—N-No! I'm not in love with her. I'm just interested! This isn't love, no. It couldn't be… This is me we're talking about… Besides, I hardly even know her.
—Young sire…—The beggar broke through Mell's thoughts.—Blessed young sire, alms for the poor…
"It's the same beggar as before. I don't think he's moved since then. But he looks skinnier than last time. He's going to have trouble making it through the summer. I should give him something while I still have the chance."
—Alms for the poor… Have mercy…
—Sorry, but this is all I have to give you…
—Ahh… thank you very much. Blessings upon you. May the Lord bless your soul, young sire.
—Thanks…
"I feel bad for him… but that's just the way of the world."
—Farewell.
…..
The skies are really clear.—Mell thought as he was moving across the streets.
The sun shone fiercely down on the town that day.
As was characteristic of the area, cloudy days and rain were frequent during this season, but the sun almost always took the stage the day after a storm.
The cathedral standing tall in the center of town. The stone-paved stress clacking with the pleasant sound of footsteps. The people peering out from beneath awnings to look up at the sky.
In Mell's eyes, it was as if they were all blessed by divine light.
However, not everyone living in the same land was equally blessed. In fact, the blessed were far outnumbered by the forsaken.
Even if their time would later come to be referred to as the Golden Age.
Elsewhere–back at the mansion, Nellie was causing trouble for the abigails.
On a whim, she had decided to redecorate her bedchamber, so she gathered the maid and put them to work, shouting orders and demands and complaints.
And she had not summoned only her personal servants, but others as well–including the White-Haired Girl.
—No, not like that! How many times must I tell you?! The tapestry goes by the door! And I don't like the carpet's pattern. Is there anything else we can change it with? Hey! Who put this ugly vase here?!
Nellie appeared to be rather irritated, and it was the servants who bore the brunt of her frustration. Though if they found this similarly vexing none of them showed it.
She was a girl who spoke her mind–a trait particular to that time in history.
Women of the Golden Age were so vivacious, in fact, that it inspired parody and satire im foreign countries.
But no matter how hands-off her parents were, had Nellie been born a generation earlier, or a generation later, she likely would not have been able to act so free-spirited.
That day, however, Nellie did not seem to be her usual self.
Though she always spoke her mind, it rarely went beyond being childishly adorable.
It was unusual to see her in such a foul mood, not even a smile on her face.
—Ugh, get rid of all of it! The carpet, that chair, the desk! It's all so ugly! Don't we have anything better?! If we don't, then order it! Have it made! You can do that much, can't you?! Hurry up and replace them!
Having only arrived that morning, the White-Haired Girl was unsure what she was supposed to be doing, caught in the middle of a flurry of maids and furniture and fabric.
She chased frantically scrambling abigails with her eyes and made attempts to help, but not being familiar with the work, she only ended up getting in their way.
She probably felt that everyone would be better off with her not in the room.
So when the maids ordered to get new furniture made their way out of Nellie's room, she attempted to follow them.
—You hold on a second. You. Yes, you, with the white hair.—However, Nellie stopped her before she could take her leave.
—Wha…?—The White-Haired Girl turned back, bewildered, to find Nellie smiling at her.
The corners of her mouth turned up into a self-assured grin. There was no trace of timidity or uncertainty in her demeanor. Her flaxen eyes seemed like they would look nice under the light of the sun.
Almost the exact opposite of the White-Haired Girl, hehe.
—I wanted to talk to you, actually. But Mother never was one to share. I asked her to trade maids, but she wouldn't have it.
—Trade…? You mean for…
—Hehe. Which is why I decided to completely redecorate my room. Because then I would need some extra hands.
—But why?
—Because Mother and Father refuse to tell me anything. Why is that? Who are you, exactly? Where did you come from? Tell me, what house are you from?
—I-I…
—Why can't you tell me? If we took you in, you must be from a fairly decent family. As a member of the Rhodes family, I have a right to know. Do I not? You can't expect me to welcome a girl into my home who won't even tell me where she came from. I don't know anything about you. I haven't seen you at any parties!
—I-I'm… I-I came from another country.
—Another country? What country?
—Somewhere very… very far away.
—Oh? North of here? East? West? South?
—U-Umm… South… It's south of here. I crossed the sea to get here, which is why we have never met before.
—How far did you have to travel, then? How many times did the sun rise, and how stormy nights did you face?
—I-Innumerable days and nights we sailed, heading ever further north.
—Huh… So tell me–
—Ah, L-Lady Nellie! That is a most wonderful painting!
"She just tried to brush me off! I won't let her get away that easy!"
—Painting? It's in my room, so of course it's wonderful.
—But that… that one's especially so.—The White-Haired girl turned her gaze down the floor.—You're both so adorable… You, Lady Nellie, and Lord Mell… Hehe. How old were you when it was painted?
—Huh?—Nellie's eyes widened a bit, but then she smiled.—Ahh, that painting! Goodness, yes, you have a good eye for art! Hehehe. It is magnificent, isn't it? This was done when I was four and Mell was seven. You see how we're standing next to each other, holding hands? I was too young to remember it very well, but Mell looks like he was really embarrassed. But standing there like statues makes for a boring painting.
Nellie explained brightly. Having completely forgotten she was pressed up against the White-Hair Girl, she did a little twirl, stopping to face the portrait.
Though many paintings lined the walls of her room…
Nellie was most fond of the one of her and her brother.
Two darling siblings standing side-by-side, the older brother smiling kindly and the younger sister sweetly tilting her head, her cheeks the color of fresh-picked apples.
It was like the very embodiment of their happiness.
A painting lays its subjects bare, you know–fortune and misfortune happiness and sorrow–enshrined on canvas for all to see.
And this reflection is not merely limited to the point in time it was made, either.
Did you know, Master, that paintings are alive?
They are drawn with a brush over an extended stretch of time, unlike photographs, which capture a singular moment.
The two have their own individual merits, but a photograph is still, while a painting moves.
Portraits reveal both the past and the present state of those they depict.
Hehe…