─ ─ Maybe the thing called destiny resembles a thread that brings together black evil.

My daughter was walking down the hallway of the mansion, which she had now begun to familiarize herself with, giving shape to her own philosophy.

The painful, dull silver hair, which also appears gray, jumps in all directions in an disorderly fashion, or is curly.

A maid who was cleaning the hallway laughs bitterly at a crisp leg carriage that does not suit the appearance of a sloppy impression.

My daughter looked surprised by it, but was in a hurry to get ahead, so she immediately drove it out of her thoughts.

My daughter came to this mansion five years ago, until then her life had been the unfortunate path itself that was rolling there.

Born in a village gasping for a high rate of taxes, he was made to apprentice by pedestrians when he was eight years old to slack his mouth.

It was in the name of a disciple, but I understood at a young age that it was actually sold.

She tried to increase her own value so that she would never be sold again.

I learned to buy and sell, gathered information on travel destinations, and also took care of the pedestrians around me. I appealed for desperate help not to be sold.

The effort had been successful.

But it was failing at the same time.

About two years after his apprenticeship, a pedestrian trader went into a crisis of bankruptcy.

A pedestrian who heard the price of firewood rise planned the transport.

Send goods to places where there is insufficient supply for demand as soon as possible. She felt uneasy telling a pedestrian who said fervently that lightness was the weapon.

Because I heard that the increase in firewood prices was due to some major chamber of commerce. It was obvious that there was some kind of plan there, and I didn't think that the pedestrians had the talent to get caught up in it and yet make a profit.

Now I thought it would be safer and happier to deliver sunny foods to villages that manpower firewood making.

But her daughter's opinion is kicked over, and the pedestrian takes her to the city. There were many calls for food in the villages that stopped along the way, but when they saw the pedestrians loaded with large quantities of firewood, they left with the skinny child with a discouraging look like it was again.

"Isn't it your job to carry goods for those people?

If she asked that, the pedestrian laughed with his nose and glanced at the villagers, saying:

"If you don't have any money, you're not a guest. If you're not a guest, you're not a person."

She despised from the bottom of her heart the pedestrian with her glaring and glitzy eyes to the front.

When we got to the city, things were changing rapidly.

The purchase price of firewood was crashing.

Someone was selling firewood substitutes, and there was no longer a buyer for existing firewood.

The pedestrian, who was bringing in large quantities of firewood, had to let go of it in a bundle of three sentences, bringing in a large amount of debt.

The pedestrian, who had lost his neck after selling off his precious carriage, sold her off.

I can calculate. I can take care of myself. You can also arrange travel schedules. I'm only ten, but I don't look bad, and in a few years I can use it as a woman.

The fruit of her efforts became a selling complaint, smoothing the pedestrian's tongue.

Those words were repeated over and over in her brain as she carelessly dropped off the face of the departing merchant.

─ ─ If you don't have any money, you're not a guest. If you're not a guest, you're not a person. If you don't have money, you're not a person.

I see, indeed, the pedestrians who lost their money were unmanned.

Without money, she became a slave.

Gold. Gold, gold, gold.

It was an old man who bought her for sale as a slave.

The old man looked at her with calm eyes deep in the intelligent light and stuck one finger out.

"How old?

Asked briefly in a squeamish voice, she answered one without setting aside.

Next I answered the old man with his index finger and middle finger sticking out with two.

Next, all fingers of one hand except the thumb, she replied with four.

The old man stood four fingers at a time smiling at her thinking how long she would be willing to go on.

"How old?

"Eight."

"─ Then what is this?

Quickly the old man stood three fingers in each hand. eyes to discern in a mean looking face, she replied.

"Sixteen."

"Let's buy this kid"

The old man who nodded at her words paid less money on the spot and took her out.

Lately she realizes she's really sure she can do the math. She steals the old man by the side.

You pay that amount of money instantly, so it can't be a bit of a wealthy civilian or something. The old man opened his mouth without turning a blind eye to her, who expects to be the hideout of a major chamber of commerce.

"You've come to see the dirty parts of this territory. Is there anything you'd like to change?

"... there is"

She answers even as she frowns at the sudden question and tries to spot the depth.

The old man grinned small as he narrowed his eyes and looked far beyond.

"It doesn't have to be funny. So, how do you want to change it?

I don't even try to hide my amusement. Without such an old man's gaze in mind, she uttered her imaginary world.

The old man combed his own gray hair with one hand as he finished listening with his gavel pinched at times.

"It is a lofty ideal that warms the heart. But it's cold to exchange it."

She glanced at the sentiments of the old man.

─ ─ It's gold again. All the money gets stuck.

The old man smiled at her expression.

"What, there are as many ways of collecting money as there are. Do you think she's going to be the daughter of Non?

"─ What?

To the old man's overly unexpected suggestion, she turned her gaze, forgetting also her position as a slave, to doubt the condition of her head.

Buy away slaves and make them daughters. I thought it was a bad quality joke.

But he wasn't kidding.

"You have to educate me for five years. Be prepared."

The old man slapped her on the shoulder with a pranky face.

And now, five years later, this is how she lives as an old man's daughter.

There were those who united happiness where the black thread of evil followed.

That is the old man for her.

"Excuse me, sir."

If my daughter rang through an unadorned door, the old man gave her permission to enter the room.

The old man, glancing at his daughter, who stepped into the room, took out two letters and threw them unconstitutionally.

going through the air. My daughter smiled, grabbing it at all risk.

"So, Grandpa, can we get started?

"Absolutely. Don't neglect to contact them."

The old man covered with one hand the edge of his mouth rising naturally in anticipation of the play that was about to begin.

My daughter gracefully graced her dull silver hair when she gently fixed it with her hands.

"Enjoy"

One man was moving his legs in frustration with his men in one of the mansions.

Step angrily on the pebble you see with that foot heading away and kick it.

"Why do you have to meet all those crazy girls?"

The pebble, which made a sharp noise and flew away, hit the wall of separation, putting mud on the white lacquer.

My men opened their mouths as they wiped the glass into their glasses with a cloth.

"Is the double-headed doll a woman?

A man tongued his men watering down the sun to make sure the cloudy glasses were removed.

"Oh, it's crazy, but it's a woman. She's a beautiful girl. If you pierce the contents of their heads, you'll be able to decorate the room beautifully!

My men put their glasses back on without even responding to the man throwing up bitterly.

"The Marquis' legless assassination of Her Royal Highness. Various rumors come to my ear, but I don't hear anything about that man, Double-headed doll."

"... you can see why"

My men looked strange at the words whimpered by sighs.

A man ramblingly opens the door to such a long distance.

My men follow the man who goes inside without even dropping mud.

When I saw them sitting on a couch placed at the window of the hall where I reached them, I realized.

He said this was a look that he couldn't tell anyone.

Girl's silver hair blends into the light inserting through the window. The silver hair blinked into the light, slightly as the girl wandered, seemingly dyeing the surrounding air white.

The loosely-opened eyes are blueballs that do not even shake slightly, darkening the colour as much as staring, and clear to every degree of blinking. How fantastic a world awaits in that. I even think I'd be happy if I got locked up.

The soft skin shaped by the white clouds of spring rise to a clear air. Even though it's going to disappear if only a little wind blows, it's still there at all times.

─ ─ Two girls.

Everything is mirrored. The girls are intertwining their fingers with one hand. One of them was healthy against trying to stop his eyelids from falling. The other gently stroking through the fingers of the white clouds in the silver hair of such a girl.

A sight like a moving famous painting.

The man spoke to the girls as he elbowed his subordinates, who had also forgotten to breathe.

"Two-headed doll, it's work"

Girls don't respond to a man's voice.

The girl stroking the other person's silver hair with her favorite doll-loving trick laughs small with a clear voice that rings the bell.

"Rest. Dolls."

An evil pitch-black yarn is loosely bound.

The thread spinning by the silver daughters involved two young nobles.

Whoever manipulates the yarn to the end laughs at the end.

─ ─ That's what destiny is.