VBFSOCL 04

Chapter 4 — Milk Tea-Colored Hair

Fiene stared at the soft, milk-tea-colored hair in front of her.

It looked fluffy and warm, as if it were soaked in sunlight—like a patch of gentle warmth under a quiet afternoon sun.

And for some reason, it stirred something in her memory.

“Honestly… she really is just the daughter of a servant. How filthy.”

“I-I’m terribly sorry, my lady……”

In a certain count’s household, a four-year-old girl dressed in clothes no different from a servant’s gave a stammering reply.

The woman she called “my lady” was the count’s wife.

And yet this small girl was, without question, the daughter of the house.

Just not the daughter of the countess.

The countess, fully aware of the child’s presence, spoke loudly enough for her to hear, addressing her personal maid as well.

“Her poor little mother is just as pathetic, don’t you think?”

“Yes, my lady~”

“To think she has to live separated from her own child.”

“Wasn’t it you who separated them in the first place, my lady?”

“Oh? Was it?”

The two women laughed lightly, their voices sharp with mockery, making sure every word reached the girl scrubbing the floor.

The small hands gripping the rag trembled slightly—but they did not let go.

“She might already be lying dead somewhere on the roadside, for all we know.”

“Oh my!”

Their laughter echoed through the room—“Ahaha.”

But the girl bit down hard on her lip and endured it in silence.

And when the countess and her maid finally left, she was alone.

Only then did she quietly wipe her tears with the sleeve of her clothes.

“Fiene!”

“Yes!”

In the afternoon, after finishing her cleaning with no time to rest, she was called again.

And given another order.

“You’ve got a decent face at least. You’ll accompany us today and try to catch the attention of the next Duke.”

“Yes.”

“And can’t you fix that lifeless attitude of yours? Also, remember this—when guests are present, you call me ‘Mother.’ Understand?”

“Yes.”

Sleepiness was already creeping into her small body. While the maid dressed her, she kept dozing off.

Each time, her hair was pulled tightly to force her awake.

She was dressed in a small dress and made to wear unfamiliar high heels before being led into the reception room.

Inside, the count and countess were already present, along with their guests—the Duke, and the boy who would one day inherit the title.

(…What soft hair… like milk tea…)

That was Fiene’s first impression of the boy.

Perhaps sensing her gaze, he stood up and walked over to greet her.

“So you’re Fiene?”

“Yes……”

“I’m Oz. Please call me that. I’d like us to get along.”

His gentle smile seemed pure and innocent—but there was something about him that felt strangely otherworldly.

(Somehow… he feels fluffy… but also a little scary?)