How to Escape from an Implacable Man

My life has turned into something completely different.

I wake up in the morning with a fuzzy futon and am made to do 'morning support' from washing my face to dressing by my maid Amalia. I miss you and your two, the days you slept in blankets and knitting your hair with all the hard work with your hands.

I remember my last conversation with your teacher.

◇ ◆ ◇

"And the second. - Marie, when this job is done, do you remember the story?

As soon as I looked up and peered into your master's black eyes, the conversation broke through my brain as I was preparing for a pastime.

I nodded small and stripped the crest boy's arm forcefully as he hugged him from behind. When I ask you to stay away for a little while, unexpectedly, the Crest boy honestly follows me.

"I wish I could give back my bracelet"

"I never thought about it that way."

Your teacher must have figured out that I understood properly. Smile and prompt me ahead.

I'm sure the Crest boy watching you back will rush to stop you, so we need to get this over with quickly.

I exhaled small, and when I took the knife out of my pocket, I pointed that knife at my neck in a breath.

I thought I heard the Crest boy stop, but that didn't matter.

"Go ahead, master."

A bunch of black threads is strange because as soon as they are disconnected from me, they look completely different. I know the long hair in my hand was once on my head, but I'm a little scared to look at it again. And my head is very light.

If I had thought about it, I would have been pulled away from you without question by the hands of a moving Crest boy.

The last words to your master became "Please, Master". I don't taste like much for breaking up, but, well, maybe that's what it is.

◇ ◆ ◇

The hair cut together since then is only long enough to hide the nod.

I don't know what emotions came to Crest boy at that time, but I just remember him pointing a very scary eye at you.

"Marie, what are you thinking?

I shouldn't. I was in the middle of breakfast.

In front of a beautiful boy who gracefully handles knives and forks in front of him, the topics involved in your teacher are forbidden. On several occasions, I've spoken about living with your teacher and how awesome your teacher is, but as soon as I do, you look scared, this little one.

"I was wondering what I was going to do today."

I also learned in my life here that this is the most difficult answer.

"Well, unfortunately, I plan on going out one day today. Wait for me with a good girl."

As Uncle Arjee, where he is your father in the negotiating arena, said, it was the first time Boy had ever been obsessed with something, and he was seen with his eyes as if he were a rare beast from a servant working in the mansion.

When I first started living here, I was surprised that the servant peeled his eyes off at each of these statements, but now, a month later, I'm used to it.

"Really? So I'm going to spend the day reading."

As always, I declare my plans for today.

In the absence of Boy, I have to tell him what action I will take during the day at breakfast. If you say something badly ambiguous or behave unexpectedly, this boy will bother you about it.

It's more troublesome when the boy is in the mansion, and he's asked to be with the boy all the time. I can't help but be attached to the story that Boy was a relative's house going to the sword workout, asking him to be beside me (by the name of being forced) even when Boy is calling a tutor to study, and honestly, his breath is stuck.

I think it's a lot of over-protection for a playmate, but maybe the boy feels responsible too. Somehow, I was forced to take it from you. But even though I'm only two years older, I don't care if they hold me in like a parent bird.

"Marie really likes books. I'll get you a new book on the way home."

This is also a recurring question over and over again, and even if Boy asks me "what kind of book would you like," I honestly shouldn't say "I want a magic book". Because every word that connects to your teacher is taboo.

No matter how trivial it is, if you say the keywords that connect to your teacher, this boy will begrudgingly teach you how you behave in an outrageous manner and how happy this life is until you stop going out. Honestly, I'm flattered.

"Didn't Marie read all the mansion books? Now what book do you want to read?

You see. The question flew in as expected.

I try to utter a word that I have not yet thrown at the boy, in horror.

"Well, actually, I'm a little interested in embroidery..."

When I was with your teacher, I remember the robe I used to weave feathers on every job. I've been disposed of almost all my belongings as well as that robe, but still, I haven't forgotten the days when I used to improvise and embroider the robe.

Come on, how do you judge the boy?

"Sure, don't be biased by all the books on history, economy, etc. You'll need those hobbies, too."

Oh, it sounds like it was safe.

I snuck down my chest.

"Let's find embroidery textbooks and tools. Oh, or should I look after my teacher?"

"Yes, no, it's outrageous. Books and tools are enough!

"You're really greedy," murmured the boy, smiling slightly as I panicked and shrugged.

When I finish breakfast and drop off the boy, my hilarious day begins.

Even when I said I was a playmate, I thought I would be concurrent with my servant, and I was betrayed from the first day.

The servants stopped me if I tried to take the lead in cleaning up my meals and cleaning them. For once, I can't believe when I said I couldn't do it and let you sweep the garden, the boy who found out about it tried to fire the gardener's grandfather and even made up the anecdote that he rushed to forgive and stop it.

He really wants to make me a doll who can't do anything. Because of this, the cleaning and cooking arm polished under your master will also rust away.

Boy doesn't even seem to like me chatting with a servant, and he said he had been badly reprimanded for talking to a young maid about hair decorations. Sure, at that time, I managed to make a painful excuse for sneaking up on you to please the boy and get nothing. (At the end of the day, I was told to ask directly.) Of course, I haven't been able to speak to that young maid since.

I took a trip to a study that I was completely used to. It seems that this mansion itself was given to Crest Boy, the third son, and all the books that line up in the study are all Crest Boy's favorites or books aligned for his education.

Given the mix of embroidered books as history, economics, physics, swordsmanship and other openly aristocratic books for men, there's just a little bit of laughter.

"Well... and"

I became Jen royal in front of the bookshelf. Read what?

After a while of thinking about it, I've always wondered, "Hundred Escorts - Pay for the firepowder that came down!" in my hand. It's a book that I think I'll buy from Boy, but let's just think about it and say it for the right reasons. Yeah. I want to believe I can say it.

From time to time I went through the book carefully, actually trying to move my body.

- Speaking of results, unfortunately, I couldn't say anything.

"I won't let you be in such danger"

"I'll protect you."

"If you're anxious, I'll double the security of the mansion."

Such as that, the boy didn't seem to like my chosen book, and he looks terribly angry.

"If you're so worried, follow my outing."

I had trouble with this. What are you going to do with it? Are you holding back next door the whole time? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Leave it in the carriage or something?

In the meantime, I managed to convince him at the drop point that he was getting tired of history and economic books. That book was confiscated, by the way.

If you could have anticipated such a result, why did you report reading that book? Some may feel the question.

The answer is simple. Because I can't fake it.

At the dinner table, I have to report to Boy that my day's behavior was on schedule. If you refuse to report it, that is why you are told so much about me, even depressingly, how you worry about me.

Furthermore, it is also reported from the servant's mouth that there are no lies in my report. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I guess I'm being watched.

Noble women are troublesome. It seems that all ladies in this country have no freedom. Being monitored from within is also very cramped from me, but if it continues from birth, is it something that doesn't bother me?

◇ ◆ ◇

The next day I was strolling in the garden as planned, stopping in front of a certain tree.

Grandpa the gardener, the apprentice boy, I feel a gaze on my back.

But I won't stop looking up at the tree.

There's only one thing I think.

(- - I want to climb)

The workshop where he lived with his master was in the middle of the mountain. Peaches and apple trees were planted nearby, and it was my role to climb trees and take ripe fruit.

The view from the top of that tree was stunning.

Your master said you can fly through the sky by magic, so you don't find it that appealing, but most humans must be fascinated by the sight.

The tree in front of you is very easy to climb with its well-groomed yet stunning branches.

I want to climb, but I'll preach later.

Even though I am confident that I can climb in such a difficult dress to move.

Oh, how stressful. A noble life.

I gently stroked the only silver bracelet I could not take away.

I got this from your teacher to protect me. This was also a momentum that seemed to be taken up initially. But I was allowed to have it as an exception because I was joined by magic and couldn't force myself to pull it out. I think it's one of the reasons I've been admitted that it looks like a luxurious ornament that suits a girl, with fine writing on the front and back. If this was a pragmatic, muscular design, that boy must have cut the bracelet a little. But he must have covered it.

I sighed small, slowly away from the tree in front of me.

Asked at dinner this day, "Do you like Smomo so much", I learned for the first time that the best tree for climbing was the Smomo tree.