The One Who Won't Be Abandoned - Chapter 4

“Looks like we’ll have to share the blanket after all. You’re okay with that, right?” I asked, glancing at Andre for his reaction as I handed over the payment for the blanket to the shopkeeper.

The portly man with a kind face wrapped the blanket in cheap fabric and remarked with a chuckle, “The boy’s lucky, having such a pretty sister to share it with.”

There wasn’t the slightest malice in his words, but Andre immediately glared at him, his eyes sharp and hostile. Before the shopkeeper could notice, I quickly stepped in front of Andre and took the bundled blanket from the man’s hands.

“Thank you. We’ll make good use of it,” I said with a polite smile.

“Alright, but are you sure one blanket will be enough? If you buy another, I can even deliver it for you,” he offered persistently.

“No, it’s really fine. If we need more, we’ll come back,” I replied firmly, cutting off his suggestion.

“Let’s go, Ray,” I said, using the name I had made up for Andre on the spot. I hurried him out of the shop and only let out a sigh of relief once we were a safe distance away.

“That shopkeeper was so persistent, wasn’t he?” I said, glancing at Andre.

“…Yeah,” he muttered.

To keep Andre’s identity a secret, I had pretended to be his older sister in front of the villagers. Though there wasn’t a single physical feature tying us together, the shopkeepers had readily accepted our story, much to my relief.

I glanced at Andre, now carrying as much as I was, and felt a pang of pride. Despite all the baggage weighing him down, he hadn’t uttered a single complaint.

“Let’s stop by the shoe shop next,” I said.

Andre looked down at my shoes and then his own, understanding immediately.

I was wearing the kind of flat-soled shoes typically worn by maids, and Andre had on the stiff, formal dress shoes he had worn at the estate. Neither pair was remotely suited for navigating the rugged mountain terrain. My feet were already blistered and sore, and I could tell from Andre’s faint limp that he was no better off.

At the shoe shop, we traded in our battered shoes to offset the price of new ones, managing to get the cost reduced by half. The new shoes were sturdy, cushioned, and perfect for moving around—worth every coin we spent.

Though the once-heavy pouch of money now felt impossibly light, the weight of the supplies in our arms gave me a sense of security. With what we had, we wouldn’t need to come down to the village for quite some time.

Besides, the oppressive atmosphere of the village, steeped in grief and resentment connected to Kaiman, made it an unsettling place to linger. I doubted Andre would want to return anytime soon, either.

As we left the village and made our way back toward the mountain, I cast a few cautious glances at Andre. He had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the trip, his expression unreadable.

Once we were well out of the village and away from prying eyes, I hesitated before asking him cautiously.

“Are the shoes okay?” I asked, repeating the question I had already asked back at the shoe shop.

Like before, Andre didn’t reply verbally, simply giving a silent nod.

I hesitated, wondering if I should try to say more to lighten his mood, but before I could figure out what to say, Andre spoke first.

“You don’t have to speak so formally to me anymore,” he said.

“Huh?” I blinked in surprise.

“It’s just the two of us now. I’m not a ‘young master’ anymore. My family… it’s gone. So, you can talk casually to me. I’m giving you permission. You can call me by my name.”

Even as he tried to sound casual, his tone carried the same authoritative edge he wasn’t even aware of, a habit deeply ingrained in him.

Before, I might’ve rolled my eyes at his privileged mannerisms and thought, Well, nobles will be nobles. But now, there was something endearing about him. Instead of teasing him, I nodded and agreed easily.

“Alright, Andre.”

I had always called him by his name in my thoughts, so saying it aloud didn’t feel strange. But after a lifetime of speaking formally to him, shedding the habit was more difficult than I expected.

“Hurry up. We need to get back before it gets dark,” I said, still slipping back into a polite tone out of reflex.

“…Okay,” Andre replied quietly.

Not long ago, before the estate’s collapse, Andre had been a strict, reserved boy who kept a firm boundary between himself and the servants. Now, his efforts to adapt to our changed circumstances—his willingness to let go of formalities—were both admirable and heartbreaking.

I set my bags down for a moment and rummaged through them, pulling out one of the boiled eggs we had bought earlier. Carefully peeling it, I handed the soft egg white to Andre and kept the dry yolk for myself.

It was a small gesture, but I didn’t want Andre to struggle with a dry throat since we didn’t have any water on hand at the moment. I watched as he popped the egg white into his mouth, and I reminded him, “Chew it well.”

He nodded, chewing diligently as instructed.

“If we want to light a fire in the cabin before night falls, we need to move quickly,” I said, picking up my bags again once I confirmed he had swallowed the egg without trouble.

I started walking ahead, the sound of Andre’s new shoes following closely behind me. His footsteps were steady and kept pace with mine, showing no signs of lagging behind.

* * *

The sound of multiple horses galloping echoed in the distance, growing louder and closer with each passing moment. Soon, a group of riders appeared, their armored forms gleaming in the sunlight. The thunderous pounding of their hooves crushed the discarded eggshells Jeanne had left behind, grinding them into fine powder.

The riders approached from both the village side and the opposite direction, meeting in the middle of the path. They were knights, clad in polished armor, their capes billowing behind them. Upon spotting each other, they reined in their horses, slowing their frantic pace.

Their horses, breathing heavily from exertion, snorted and pawed at the ground, their restlessness mirroring the tension in their riders. Once the animals had calmed, the knights quickly began to converse, their expressions hardened with anxiety.

“Anything on your side?” one knight asked.

“Apologies, nothing,” another replied.

“Damn it! Same here,” the first muttered, his frustration evident.

“Could they have already fled to another domain?”

“The young master wouldn’t leave the territory with a stranger, not willingly. And certainly not alone,” a third knight interjected. “But we can’t rule out the possibility. We’ll need to expand the search beyond the nearby villages.”

The knights nodded grimly at the words of the man leading them—Dune, the vice-captain of the Kaiman family knights. Though their faces showed weariness and concern, they steeled themselves with renewed determination.

All of the knights wore the same cloak, each embroidered with a bold, crimson emblem: a circular design with sharp, jagged edges at the top, resembling flames. It was the symbol of the Kaiman family—the family whose name now bore the stigma of treason.

Even with the accusation of betrayal hanging over them, the knights wore their loyalty to the Kaiman family openly, displaying the emblem without hesitation. After exchanging a few more words, they split into separate directions, their horses galloping away to resume the search.

A gust of wind swept through the empty road where the knights had gathered. The crushed eggshell powder, caught by the breeze, scattered into the air, swirling momentarily before being carried further away by a stronger wind.

The direction it drifted? Toward Kayaal Mountain, where Jeanne and Andre were steadily climbing.

* * *

The morning sunlight streamed brightly through the window, filling the cabin with warmth. Thanks to the efforts of its two new occupants, the once-abandoned cabin had transformed into a livable space. The thick layer of dust that had coated the floor was now gone, leaving it polished and clean. The small kitchen table and chairs, along with the neatly arranged wooden bowls atop them, had been scrubbed and tidied, showing clear signs of care.

The fireplace, which had kept the cabin warm through the night, still held glowing embers, quietly crackling in the cozy silence.

On the cabin’s sole bed, two small figures were curled up together, fast asleep—Jeanne and Andre. They had taken to sharing the bed each night. With no spare blankets for the floor and the need to stay warm if the fireplace fire died, it was the most practical arrangement.

At first, they had slept with their backs to one another, just as they had when lying on the dirt floor. But over time, they had grown accustomed to the comfort of each other’s presence and now fell asleep in each other’s arms.

This morning was no different. Andre, half-asleep, rubbed his face against the soft warmth beside him, instinctively seeking comfort. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself once again nestled against Jeanne, his arms wrapped around her waist. He tightened his hold, burrowing deeper into her embrace.

The coarse texture of the cheap clothes they had bought in the village was far from the velvets or silks Andre had grown up with. It wasn’t even comparable to the fabric of the maid uniforms from the estate. Yet, to him, Jeanne’s warmth made the rough material feel as luxurious and precious as the emperor’s finest bedding.

In Jeanne’s arms, Andre felt safe, cocooned in a sense of peace and comfort he had never experienced before. This moment—early in the morning, before Jeanne woke up—had become Andre’s favorite time of the day.

If his family hadn’t been destroyed, if the horrific tragedy hadn’t occurred, Andre would have never known how warm and comforting Jeanne’s embrace could be.

Before it all happened, Jeanne had been nothing more than an annoyance to Andre—a bothersome, misaligned cog in the machine of his life. For reasons he couldn’t explain, she got on his nerves in countless ways. She was like a loose thread on a garment—irritating and out of place but not worth the trouble to remove.

Jeanne wasn’t a properly trained or formally hired servant. Yet, she clumsily mimicked the behavior of the household staff, acting as though she were indispensable to the estate.

What irritated Andre even more was how the rest of the household, including his parents, accepted Jeanne’s presence as though it were natural. Jeanne had free rein of the estate, except for his parents’ private quarters. She roamed wherever she pleased—through the gardens filled with expensive flowers, the kitchens stocked with rare and sweet delicacies. And if Jeanne wanted something, the staff would readily place it in her hands without hesitation.

Perhaps it was seeing her receive such undeserved generosity that made Andre begin to resent her. Over time, her presence grated on him like an exposed thread that refused to be snipped. He felt as though Jeanne had somehow taken over the estate, and the idea left him feeling unsettled, even angry.

However, Andre couldn’t help it—whenever he thought of the Kaiman Estate, Jeanne inevitably came to mind. As though Jeanne were the true mistress of the estate. As though Jeanne were the very symbol of the Kaiman household.

The first time Andre consciously realized this was during a visit to a relative’s estate with his father. When his father announced it was time to return home, Andre had instinctively nodded, inexplicably picturing Jeanne’s smiling face as the idea of “home.”

Moments later, the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, and he was startled. He was no different from anyone else in the estate—he too, without thinking, had come to equate Jeanne with the Kaiman household.

It was embarrassing, but perhaps unavoidable. Jeanne had been a presence in the estate long before Andre was even born. She was practically a fixture of the place, to the extent that she appeared in Andre’s very earliest memories.

One of those memories was of the first time he tasted chocolate—a sweet so intense it overwhelmed his senses.

“Open wide, young master!”

Before him stood a young girl, her cheeks still round with baby fat but clearly older than him. Her brown hair was braided into two pigtails, adorned with flower-shaped pins. Her face, beaming with excitement, was as unforgettable as the taste of chocolate.

“Don’t tell anyone I gave this to you, okay? If my mother finds out, I’ll get in trouble,” she chattered, holding out another piece of chocolate.

Andre, like a baby bird waiting for food, opened his mouth wide and accepted the piece she offered, her fingers sticky with melted chocolate.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“…Yeah.”

He sniffled, inhaling deeply to keep his runny nose from dripping. His cheeks were damp with tears from the crying fit he’d just had. He couldn’t remember why he had been so upset, but the girl’s bright face contrasted starkly with his tear-streaked one.

Still…

“See? I was right, wasn’t I? Now that you’ve had chocolate, you’re not crying anymore.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll sneak you more next time.”

“Okay.”

To Andre, the girl felt strong and reassuring.

Her chocolate-covered hand reached out to ruffle his fine golden hair, leaving sticky traces in his locks. But neither Jeanne nor Andre cared in the slightest.

“So, from now on, you don’t have to cry by yourself. I know all sorts of ways to stop tears right away.”

“Okay.”

Andre liked the hand that lingered on his head so much that he couldn’t help but nuzzle into it, much like a loyal dog seeking comfort from its master. Jeanne’s hand was small and soft, fragile in every way, yet it gave Andre an inexplicable sense of reassurance.

Among the many servants of the Kaiman Estate, there were those who had served the family for generations, unwavering in their loyalty. Andre’s nanny had been one of them—a devoted woman with a nearly fanatical allegiance to the Kaiman family. Yet, it wasn’t the nanny who occupied Andre’s earliest memory. It was Jeanne, just four years older than him, who had imprinted herself on his mind.

And not as a bad memory, either. In fact, it was a happy one—one of the happiest.

But those moments of happiness gradually dwindled as Andre grew older, eventually disappearing entirely. The turning point had been when Jeanne, finding that the smallest maid’s uniform finally fit her, began mimicking the maids in earnest. She stopped wandering up to the upper floors where the master’s family lived.

Perhaps Jeanne had finally come to understand her place, which Andre thought was for the best. Yet, even though she no longer ventured upstairs, Jeanne continued to roam the estate as if she owned it. And when their paths crossed, she bowed and greeted him like any other servant.

The sweet smell of chocolate that had once surrounded Jeanne was replaced by an intangible sense of distance. Andre found himself inexplicably angry about it, though he had no way to express his feelings. The frustration churned inside him, simmering without an outlet.

That was when it began. Ever since Jeanne had started keeping her distance, she had become a constant irritant to Andre.

A bothersome cog. An unsightly thread. Andre repeated these descriptions to himself, convincing himself that they were the truth. They had to be—they were the reality of Jeanne’s place in his life.

But now, in the midst of their new life in Kayaal Mountain, Andre’s perception of Jeanne had shifted slightly.

Jeanne was no longer just a symbol of the Kaiman Estate. Jeanne was the Kaiman Estate.

It was Jeanne’s presence in the estate that had made it home for Andre.

And now, as long as Jeanne was by his side, he still felt the warmth and comfort of the Kaiman Estate, even after its destruction. Before the fire, Jeanne had been a sanctuary for Andre—a safe place that shielded him from storms. Now, she was the same. She was the person protecting him, offering him solace and safety.

Andre realized that as long as Jeanne was with him, he could endure anything, even the horror of losing his family and home.

“Mm…” Jeanne shifted, rolling to her side as if discomforted by the pressure on her waist. But Andre refused to let her slip away, tightening his arms around her and pulling her closer.

As long as his sanctuary remained by his side, Andre could keep going, even in the face of despair. The Kaiman Estate may have burned, his parents may have died, but Andre still had Jeanne. He couldn’t let her go—not now, not ever.

She was his shelter, his anchor, his last connection to a life that had crumbled. Andre clung to her with the desperate realization of her importance, a truth that had sunk into him in the wake of the tragedy.

It was a skewed, almost warped kind of realization, born from the trauma and shock of his family’s destruction. Yet it was the only thing keeping him upright, the only thing stopping him from falling apart.

Andre found Jeanne’s presence intoxicating, a source of strength he couldn’t resist. And so, piece by piece, he let himself sink deeper into her, unable and unwilling to pull away.

* * *