episode_0004

The warm sunlight gently covered the garden. Amidst the wind scattering flower petals, laughter quietly echoed.

“Caught you!”

As I reached out, she laughed and turned around to run away.

A distance that seemed almost within reach of my toes. But now neither she nor I fell down like when we were children.

Four years, a time that wasn’t long, yet enough for many things to change.

Now we were 12 years old.

She had become so accustomed that she could tell what I was about to say just by my eyes, and I could understand a little of what she was feeling even without words. Of course, she still couldn’t speak, but that was no longer a ‘disability’, but ‘our own way’.

We were friends. And like very old friends, more comfortable than anyone else.

[I think I won again.]

Seeing the writing in the notebook she held out, I deliberately sighed and said playfully.

“When did you get so good at running away?”

[Always. You’re just slow.]

“Couldn’t you lose just a little bit sometimes?”

[Then it wouldn’t be fun.]

I smiled and stroked her hair. Through her hair, which had grown much longer than before, her purple eyes sparkled.

There was no longer anxiety or fear in those eyes. Only a playful light and childish innocence resided there.

She still felt overwhelmed in crowded places, but she moved around actively inside the house.

She also interacted with the maids to some extent and often had tea time with my mother.

That look of hers, soaked and trembling in the rain on the day I first brought her home, was nowhere to be seen anymore.

She was a very special existence to me.

When she first came to our house, my intention was merely to help.

But having grown up together, laughing, learning, fighting, and reconciling again, the emotions that had accumulated became something more than simple pity.

Before I knew it, I couldn’t imagine a day without her by my side.

And… she felt the same way.

[Let’s read a book together today too.]

“Okay. This time, I’ll read.”

We sat side by side on a bench in a corner of the garden and opened a book. She leaned against me, listening quietly. The sound of the wind, the rustling pages, and her quiet breathing.

I suddenly thought that I wished moments like this would continue forever.

The sunlight gently settled onto the bench, and the sentences in the book slowly flowed before her eyes.

I read the text clearly beside her, and she nodded, listening quietly.

When a difficult word occasionally appeared, she would cock her head, pull out her notebook, and ask, ‘[What does that mean?]’

Every time that happened, I would pretend to know, but soon we would open a dictionary and learn together.

Spending time together like that had, at some point, become the most natural daily routine.

As lunchtime approached, she gently pulled on my sleeve. I met her eyes and asked.

“Are you hungry?”

[Yes.]

[Today, I want to make it.]

I was surprised for a moment. Cooking, she said. She was someone who rarely went near the kitchen before.

“Are you sure? You’ll have to use a knife, you know…”

[I practiced. Secretly.]

She smiled with a playful look. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Alright then, today’s lunch is entrusted to the Chef.”

When we arrived in the kitchen, a maid asked if she needed help, but she quietly shook her head. Her eyes conveyed that she wanted to do it alone today. I decided to watch quietly from the side.

Holding the knife carefully and cutting carrots, her appearance was truly serious. Her fingertips were still clumsy, and the potatoes she sliced were unevenly shaped, but she quietly continued cooking.

Watching her like that made my heart strangely warm.

In the end, what was completed was just plain potato soup, but she held it out to me with a slightly proud face.

“This… did you really make all of this?”

[Yes.]

[It’s a little burnt. But please eat it.]

I picked up a spoon and took a bite. To be honest, it was salty. Yet, a strangely pleasant taste spread in my mouth.

“It’s really delicious.”

[Liar.]

“It’s true. You could be a chef, you know?”

She slightly narrowed her eyes and glared at me, but soon chuckled and nodded.

[You really tell sweet lies.]

[But… I’m happy.]

That afternoon, we washed our hands and went out to the garden again. As we walked down a path lined with blooming flowers, she suddenly took my hand gently. Her fingers carefully touched mine, as if asking for permission.

I wasn’t surprised and held her hand tightly.

It was the first time the two of us had walked holding hands like that.

“Your hand… it’s warm.”

[Yours too.]

The sky that day was unusually high and clear. Against the blue background without a single cloud, the silhouettes of the two of us were quietly drawn.

Towards the evening, Mother called for us, so I went to the drawing-room with her. As always, Mother prepared two cups of tea with an elegant smile.

“You two seem to be getting along very well these days.”

I smiled awkwardly. She slightly bowed her head towards Mother.

“Mother, she even made soup for the first time today. Something she made herself.”

“Oh, really? You’re growing up so much.”

[I could only do a little. I’ll do better next time.]

Mother read the notebook she held out and smiled quietly.

“It’s alright. The heart you have to do something is the most beautiful thing.”

That night, before going to bed, I looked out at the moon through the window and thought quietly.

I knew that a quiet, peaceful day like this wasn’t something to take for granted.

Before she came to this house, and on the night I first saw her in the alley, from that moment when the rain soaked her body, we had gone through so much together.

But now.

At this moment.

Having her by my side, and me being by her side, felt truly precious and thankful.

And someday I, too…

——————————————–

That night, unable to sleep, she sat by the window and quietly fell into thought, with the moonlight behind her.

Silence was something she was used to, but lately, in that silence, she often found herself recalling ‘sounds’.

His voice reading a book, his laughter, his muttering to himself, and even the sound of his occasional yawn when he was sleepy.

All of it was the language of the world to her.

She remembered his eyes looking at her.

The initial caution, unfamiliarity, and pity when they first met.

And the gaze that had changed little by little over time.

Now more familiar than anyone else, gentle, and warm.

But the more she looked at him, the more she began to worry about what kind of existence she should be in this house…

No, by his side.

Is it okay to just stay like this?

Is just being protected and living together truly enough?

She shook her head. No, it wasn’t.

She wanted to be someone needed, by his side.

And someday, when he grew up to be the person who protected this house—

She wanted to have a name to stand proudly beside him.

The next morning, she quietly approached the head maid and held out her notebook.

[I want to work.]

The head maid’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What are you talking about, you? You’re still young, work…?”

[Like a maid. As much as I can. I want to learn.]

“That is… Did you get permission from anyone? From the young master or madam…?”

She shook her head.

But her heart was firm.

[I won’t tell them. Not yet.]

[When I’m ready, then, I’ll tell them.]

The head maid saw the unwavering resolve in her eyes.

A deep determination, difficult to believe for a child.

She sighed and nodded.

“Alright, then first, I’ll teach you simple tasks.”

From that moment, her days gradually changed.

Now she made her bed herself every morning, dusted with her small hands, and carried the mop.

She was clumsy and slow, but the head maid diligently taught her, and she quietly learned.

Even when she walked in the garden after lunch,

Even when she read books with him,

In a corner of her mind, the resolve ‘I will become his maid’ was always there.

At night, alone in her room,

She opened her notebook to write her diary for the day.

[Today, I changed the curtains by myself.]

[It was hard, but I was happy.]

[It feels so good to be helpful in this house.]

[Someday—when I become a real maid, I’ll have a name too.]

[I hope he’s the one who calls that name.]

She quietly closed the notebook and opened the window.

The early summer breeze seeped into the room, gently swaying the curtains.

She smiled slightly and moved her lips as if whispering.

Words didn’t come out, but it felt as though her feelings would surely be conveyed.

Now, I want to be the person who protects him.

That is my life, and the reason I exist.

“Did you fold that?”

Coming down to the drawing-room with a book, seeing the neatly folded towels on the table, I suddenly asked.

She quietly nodded and held out the notebook which said [Yes].

“You’re already this good?”

[I practiced a lot.]

She was remarkably serious.

There were a few small red marks on her fingertips, and light bruises on her knees that looked like they were from cleaning.

But her expression above those injuries looked strangely peaceful.

Lately, she woke up early in the morning.

Quietly, without being noticed by the head maid, she organized the closet, wiped the dust off doorknobs, and went to the dining room before me to smooth out the wrinkles in the tablecloth.

At first, I didn’t know.

No one had told her to, and if someone had, they would have stopped her, saying ‘What can a child do anyway?’,

But she repeated the same tasks every day, whether someone saw her or not.

One day, Mother saw it and smiled gently.

“That child seems to have made up her mind about something.”

Around noon, I followed her towards the kitchen area.

The head maid was personally teaching her how to arrange spoons, and she was carefully moving silverware one by one with her small hands.

The head maid asked.

“Why are you trying this hard? You’re not even officially a maid yet.”

She took out her notebook and wrote this.

[Because I want to stay here.]

[By his side, I want to be someone helpful.]

I saw that from behind the door and quietly turned back without a word.

For some reason, my chest felt strange.

That evening, I spoke first.

“Do you really want to become a maid?”

She widened her eyes in surprise.

“…You don’t really have to do all that. Just being here is enough, I…”

[Just being here isn’t enough.]

[Because I might have to leave someday.]

[To not leave, I have to be here.]

[I have to become someone needed.]

The moment I saw those words, I was speechless.

No matter how young she was,

A certain ‘fear’ was clearly lurking in her eyes.

A small, firm desperation that she wanted to stay, but if she didn’t do anything, she would eventually have to leave.

I shook my head.

“You can just… just stay. I want you by my side, no matter what you do or don’t do.”

She lowered her notebook for a moment and quietly looked at me.

A little later, she smiled slightly and

Picked up her notebook again and wrote a short sentence.

[But a maid can be a friend too.]

I couldn’t help but smile.

Yes, she was right.

A few days later, though not an official maid, she got a small apron.

A soft white apron, just her size, ordered personally by Mother.

She received it and held it in her arms for a long time.

And a long time later, she carefully held out the notebook towards me.

[Is it pretty?]

I nodded.

“Yeah, it suits you well.”

For the first time, she closed the notebook, bowed her head, and smiled.

That smile contained more than words could say.

That night, she wrote in her diary.

[I received an apron.]

[For the first time, it was something for me.]

[I, I will become the maid of this house.]

[And I will remain by his side.]