The Escape of Layla

I thought you were the perfect person.

Not until I saw that guy laughing in the moonshadow that day.

I, Allen Altair, was born as the first prince of Altair, the kingdom loved by God and created by the sorcerers of the Miga. There was no stain whatsoever on my birth to King Lewis Altair, a strict father who expressed in colour the traits of silver hair and pale eyes, the symbol of the Altair royal family, and my mother, Katrine Altair, a righteous queen, born to whom the sea has been married from a beautiful exotic country.

And the superstition that "the direct descendants of the royal family will always have silver hair and pale eyes," without ever having to go off the law, I also had silver hair and pale eyes.

Yes, so much so that beside me they say, "It's a living copy of His Majesty the King," I am a good representative of the character of the Altair royal family.

It's a living copy of my father, I'm not greatly dissatisfied with what they say. Even with his inner eyes, his father looks neat, and there are many times in the social world when the ladies look at his father and look at him like they're in love. You may accept that it is an indirect compliment to be told by such a father that he is a living copy.

But my father is actually a little bad at it because he gets the cold impression that he's too strict. I respect my father for the steadfastness with which he carries out his official duties every day, but, you know, I can't help but feel bad about cold, pale eyes.

At least my eyes wanted to inherit my mother's beautiful amber color, etc. I swallowed my childish discontent and took my gaze off the mirror. Because the maid who came to get me got into my eyes through the mirror.

"His Royal Highness Prince Allen, your breakfast is ready"

Watch carefully and stare at the maid of honor without taking a slice of the extra. She had tied her deep brown hair in one piece. The atmosphere of a solid maid is commonly found in this castle.

"Okay, I'm coming."

If you smile lightly, the maid looks frightened for a moment and hurries to thank you. I'm used to this, too. It doesn't mean that nothing is being treated cold by the servants, but I, the living one by the "strict king," seem to be the object of awe to them.

Sure, Father is a tough man. I've heard of relentless punishment for backcutters. But people like her who work seriously aren't supposed to be treated badly, but I wasn't sure why I could be so awed by the servants.

If I let my father tell me, it would be an extra reckoning, and I head to the breakfast venue laughing at myself somewhere. Even today, the same morning opened the curtain.

"You fish! I've seen it in the Mistral Sea, I miss it..."

Raising a gorgeous voice at the edge of the long table, Mother praised the brightly colored fish that was on her breakfast. Indeed, it is not a fish that can be consumed in this country because of its shades. A chef who wants to please the queen may have deliberately picked up fish from her mother's native land.

"Did your mother often go to the sea?

Talk about shaking bright red hair and smiling at her squeaky mother, but without a clasp. Father's seat across the street from my mother remains vacant this morning.

"Well, when it came to playing, it was the ocean first! I'd love to show it to Allen someday."

Mother returns a full smile to me with innocence like a girl. Honestly, not that there was anything that stood out as a queen, my mother, but as my mother, she was very kind. My mother often tells me stories about my distant mother's home country. For me, rarely leaving the castle, any trivial stories about my mother were very fresh and interesting.

"Your mother was a princess, but you were a grandmother"

Somehow, I can imagine my mother's girlhood. I guess I was innocently lazy and having fun every day.

"If you're talking about a grandmother, so is Miss Cheryl. Maybe I'll come back to see you today?

My mother carried the last bite of the little fish into her mouth and gave her a tearful grin somewhere.

"Right...... We met three days ago during this time, so it's certainly not strange to come"

Miss Cheryl is my childhood friend, and she was my fiancée five years ago when I was ten. He was the son of the lord of the Duke of Ames family, his father's best friend, and a carefree, happy girl. Now he is doing a fine job complaining about his education to become the future queen.

To be honest, it's a subtle line if you ask me if I have romantic feelings, but I would definitely do well with Cheryl. I'm glad Cheryl seems to admire me so much that if I go further as her fiancée, love will always bud.

"It's a good thing we're friends! Miss Cheryl is my fiancée, and I'm so glad you're here."

My mother is happy with my happiness with a smile she has no other intention of doing. After all, as a queen, she is a little weather savvy, but I was happy with that.

At the same time, I still stare at my father's seat, which remains vacant this morning. I haven't had breakfast with my father in years.

The relationship between father and mother was something cold somewhere, creating just the same atmosphere as a political marriage. The lack of romantic feelings seems to be mutual, and we may just be fortunate that our heartfelt mothers don't have a bare gesture that our fathers rarely show their faces.

I have wondered how Father would not love a mother with such a tender heart. Since most marriages of royal matrimony take place under political tactics, I sometimes thought to myself that I should at least make an effort to show mercy to the person who became my partner.

At a very young age, I bumped that idea into my mother. [M] Now that I think about it, I think the insensitivity is the same thing, but it's the cruelty that comes with being young that makes it easy to forgive. My mother stroked my young head only once, smiling small and telling me, "Don't tell me," she told me the secret my father had.

According to Mother's secret story, Father had a beautiful concubine before welcoming Mother to the Queen. The queen, who was married from one of the kingdom's leading dukes in Altair, said she was an endless beauty with jewel-like blue eyes in her platinum hair, all the way to "Altair's treasure".

But the happy time between your father and his beautiful queen did not last long. The Queen lost all her children's lives when she gave birth to the heir.

The news of the death of the beautiful queen stained the entire kingdom with sorrow. As far as the Dukes and Duchess, the Queen's parents, were concerned, they became too sick of their hearts and bodies to go back after the Queen. That's how much she was a beloved queen from everyone.

"I'm sure His Majesty loved the queen wholeheartedly. I think the grief of losing your beloved princess and son at the same time has closed His Majesty's will."

So I'm fine, and my mother laughed small. Young me didn't know what to do, but maybe not coming into contact with my father more than I needed to be is the kindness of my mother. I'm sure your mother isn't in love with your father, but that's what I found out then that she does have something like affection.

Most importantly, even if it's a cold couple, Father properly escorts Mother in public, and Mother's wishes are fulfilled for anything within common sense. So it may look like a well-rounded couple there by the side. He gave birth to a prince named me and did all he could ask for, so he didn't say anything about his surroundings knowing the truth.

Maybe your father has a hard time getting involved with your mother and me. Because you remind me of my dear Lady who lost her life without her father ever listening to her voice. And that tendency was more pronounced against me than against my mother, who had bright red hair the opposite of the late queen.

Although very rarely, Father sometimes laughs all the time at the brightness of his mother. But my father never laughed at me.

Even though your son, who was born to your beloved Queen, is dead, it may be complicated to see that I was born to my mother, who was married in a political marriage. Besides, I look so much like my father that they even call me a living copy of him, so maybe he thinks I exist somewhere. [M] Anyway, whether I was born or not, I have no predisposition to be liked by my father.

But I don't consider it unhappy. Rather, I consider my environment to be a prince of a country. My sweet mother, my adorable fiancée who admires me, my servants who do their work faithfully. Disgruntled is so luxurious.

Besides, I have another, very important person. Nature and mind come to mind when I wonder if I can see "her" again today.

"What does Allen do today? Even if Miss Cheryl's coming, there's still time. You want to go to a concert with me?

My mother has always liked music. This is how we gather musicians from time to time to hold small concerts with the ladies of your friends. It was an irreplaceable time for entertainment for my mother, who was not very interested in dresses and jewellery.

I also occasionally accompanied her and listened to her mother's instruments, but she had a really comfortable time. But I have to say no because I'm going to see "her" today.

"It's a corner, but I'm going to the library today. We also hope you invite us."

"Back to the library again? Allen's great."

I'm not going to study as Prince Wang today, so I find it a little distracting to honestly receive that word. I just had to flush it with an ambiguous grin.

After breakfast, I was aiming for the library with a bunch of parchment in one hand. It's a familiar sight to see different servants in the hallway bowing their heads one after the other.

And everyone who was wrong no longer even had doubts about whether they had deep colored hair or extremely gorgeous colored hair.

This had to do with every decision this castle had. Every one of them was rooted in me before I was born, and I can say that my father, who was strict and did not pinch his personal feelings, was the only one who pushed the castles unreasonably.

For every one of those determinations - no, there are so many rules repelled in this castle that it is desirable to call them contraindications.

The first is to decorate the anemone flowers.

The second is the use of colours in clothing, ornaments, embroidery, etc.

And the third is that those with flax hair and eyes work.

It's strangely specific, and I think that's a strange contraindication. I still don't understand how that strict father pushed me through these unsure castle people.

But the castle men were thorough with it. The closer I am to my father's servant, the more I get the impression that I take great care not to touch those three contraindications.

Even when deciding to hire a servant, this strange decision was kept exactly. I would never let you work in this castle if it looked flax depending on what you tried to capture, even with hair that you couldn't call flax on the side. Still, if I really wanted to work, and if I didn't seem to argue that I was convinced, it was my lesson to offer to discolor my hair with strong alcohol.

I can't believe that father-in-law, who never seemed to care about people's eyes or anything like that, was bound by such triviality. I really want to wonder if it's what your father said.

Whatever the flowers of Anemone, I wonder what Father wants from the man of the castle until he takes away the colors of corn and flax. My father, who neither likes nor dislikes to express his emotions, has long been interested only in that obsession, which he only shows.

I'm hoping to ask you someday, given that your relationship with your father is so alienating, maybe this will end up as a mystery forever. Ask the servant, because he either answers "I don't know" or shuts his mouth firmly.

Yes, even "she" tells me anything, but before this contraindication, I shut my mouth.

Gi, and the big library door opens. I muttered a small "thank you" to the servants who opened the door and headed to the usual place where "she" would be reading.

Sunny browsing room, farthest from the entrance. "She" always reads thick books there.

What kind of book would you be reading today? Last week I was reading the history books of the kingdom, and before that I was reading a novel of fashion. "She" reads every inch of a book in any field.

I always feel like I'm just a little early for this moment when I head from the entrance to the browsing room thinking about "her". Sometimes we only see each other once a week because we're so busy with each other, maybe I'm looking forward to seeing her more than I thought.

Step gently into the hall with the bookcase and the small browsing room that followed. In the old paper smell of the book and the glowing sunlight, "she" was still there today.

"Morning, Monica. What kind of book are you reading today?

"She," Monica, who was passionate about my voice and thick books, looked up as if she had been bounced. I was sorry I would have surprised you, but I was relieved to see you smiled softly right away.

"Good morning, His Royal Highness Prince Allen. Today, I'm reading this book. '

Monica showed me the cover of the book she was reading when I sent her a hands-on signal, which I and I arranged a little bit at a time. Apparently, he was reading famous literary works.

"Oh, that's funny, isn't it? Especially around the main character getting lost in the woods."

'No! Don't tell me yet.'

That look of Monica sending signals using her hands like she panicked was so cute, she laughed unexpectedly.

Cute, what a rude compliment to a woman over ten years older than herself. But Monica was someone with innocence that didn't make her feel old.

It was ten years ago that I met Monica. That day, when I entered the library for the first time, I was blinded by the way she looked at me reading so hard in this room.

Young I was purely interested in Monica, who had red hair very similar to my mother's. The beginning was really, just that.

I knew right from the outfit that Monica was a maid working in this castle. I'm sure I won't forget the redhead maid once I saw her, but this was the first day I saw Monica.

Monica was kind to me when I approached her. There is a position between Prince Wang and the maid, so if you think about it later, it may have been normal for Monica, but the other servants were afraid of my father and me, but Monica was not scared at all. Her tolerance was combined with my joy as if I had a sister. [M]

Monica told me in a brush that she wasn't born with a voice. I was young but also impressed with my businessmanship by the beautiful Monica letter, as if it were written by an aristocratic lady.

"Beautiful words. Monica's parents were masterful."

'No, this... was taught to you by a more noble lady...'

Monica, who always answers my questions politely, clouded her words all the time. Monica's intricate expression at that time is still unforgettable. Just looking at the innocent smile, that look somewhere bitter on Monica's face made a slight impression.

Maybe it was something you shouldn't ask. I figured it out as a young man. I was sorry to persevere in pursuit and be avoided by Monica, and there will be one or two things that no one wants to be touched upon. More than that, I didn't imitate the wildness of digging into the story.

As it was, I spent some time talking and talking to Monica in a way that she answered in writing, but as far as I was concerned, I felt like it was a burden on her, and I was a little distracted.

But it's too bad you stop having conversations with Monica who admires you like a sister because of that. So I came up with this idea of having a conversation with a signal using my hand. It took years to connect words and signals little by little, to the point where we now have such a fluent conversation. I've never been happier.

Making this signal with Monica was sort of my hobby, so to speak, but my teacher happened to look at it and advised me to present it at a society of scholars and doctors. Honestly, I didn't think it would be such a big story, but she was so happy to tell Monica about this.

'That's a very nice thing. People who cannot speak as loudly as I do may be saved by His Highness's hand'

If Monica and I admire her so much, we'll just have to take shape now. The teacher quickly had to keep the dossier well together by then, as he seemed to be setting the stage for the presentation.

Take out a bunch of parchment paper, a draft of the presentation material, and place it before Monica. She blinked Hazel's eyes and gently touched the parchment.

"I've been working on the materials for the announcement we talked about during this time. I'd like to hear Monica's opinion."

Saying so, Monica smiled gently instead of replying and slowly began reading the material.

Beautiful side, with careful beauty. I've been staring at Monica's side for a while now, but you feel her gaze, and I rush to take the literary work she's been reading earlier, on the occasion of her glance at this one. I wrapped my fingers around the page flat so I wouldn't lose sight of the page she was reading.

I know Monica won't do anything to criticize me, but I'm really nervous about asking her to check what she wrote in front of me. The literary work that was supposed to be interesting didn't come to mind at all.

After a while, the sound of Monica finishing a bunch of parchment tongue sounded. If you look up gently, Monica smiles softly and sends you signals.

'It was great content. This must surprise the teachers.'

"Is that true? Was there anything strange about that? I don't care about any trivialities."

Asked anxiously, Monica glanced at the parchment with her finger on her mouth to conceive only a little, and eventually rolled around and showed it to me. There was a page with specific examples of signals.

'I'm sorry if it's my misremembering, but didn't this signal do it with my thumb and index finger, not with my thumb and middle finger?

While sending signals to flow, Monica pointed to one specific example. If you check closely, Monica is right. The two of us have made a slightly different statement to the signal we arranged.

"Monica is right, wow...... I missed it, too."

I can't believe Monica already knows so much about concrete examples that she could have skipped reading them. Her sincere attitude to me reading every inch of this made me hot in the back of my chest.

Monica just smiled and looked at me. You don't have to speak up, it's the look that often conveys that she's watching over me with warmth.

"Thank you, Monica. Remember the signal you made with me."

Thanks again, Monica looked at me as if surprised and shook her head slowly.

'I'm the one who has to thank you. Thanks to you, it is such a pleasure to speak with Your Highness'

"I'm glad you think it's fun"

'Besides, these days my work colleagues have also remembered the easy signals. This alone has saved me a lot of trouble. Thanks to Your Highness.'

"Give me a signal...?

That should be a great pleasure, but when I imagined Monica using this signal with her work colleagues to have a conversation, for a moment, I felt the back of my chest hurt properly. I try to put my hand on my chest unexpectedly, but naturally, it doesn't look like I'm hurting anywhere.

I'm sure it's your fault. I make that decision and rush back to Monica.

"... that was good. I'd be happy to help Monica."

Monica was gently pinching her neck because of the slight silence she had created, but she smiled as if she was relieved somewhere by my words. That look that narrows Hazel's eyes makes me think she's still adorable when she says she's an older woman.

The red hair that I tied up like a maid was much duller than my mother's, and although it was difficult to say it was gorgeous, the color must not seem so gentle to me. I think the sunflower-like hazel eyes are also very pretty, like a symbol of the sun.

Even though I wanted to praise her that way, the words still didn't get out of my mouth today. If you think about it, you've never even told your fiancée, Cheryl. You can't tell Monica. Besides, just where a 15-year-old said such a dialogue, an adult Monica would just gently recieve it.

I don't know, what is it?

The identity of this emotion sprouted in the back of my chest remains unclear today, and I had a peaceful time next to Monica.