The attic was dark and gloomy even though it was still daytime. The only light came from a tiny window, smaller than Vivian herself, high up near the roof.
“I’m scared…”
Sniffling, Vivian curled up near the faint beam of light as if trying to cling to it. Dust filled the air, making her cough again and again.
“Apaah—”
No matter how pitifully she called out, the father who had “gone to heaven” never answered.
It was evening when the rain began to fall.
As if all the moisture in her body had been squeezed out, Vivian had been crying so hard that her head kept drooping forward… nodding… falling.
Maybe it was a blessing that exhaustion finally dragged her into sleep. The attic on a rainy evening felt even more eerie than before.
Just as she was slipping away into unconsciousness, a chill ran down her spine.
“W-what…?”
Her ears perked up like a frightened rabbit’s as she scanned the dark room anxiously.
And then—she met them.
A pair of eyes staring at her from the darkness.
Squeak.
“……”
Squeak?
“Eeeeeeek!”
Vivian let out a piercing scream at the unexpected guest who had arrived before her.
Would it have been less scary if it had been smaller?
Or if its eyes weren’t gleaming so vividly in the dark?
The rat—bigger than her own forearm—glared back at her.
Panicking, Vivian scrambled toward the door.
“Ow!”
She tripped over a box lying on the floor and tumbled head over heels, but she didn’t even feel the pain.
“M-Mister! M-Madam! Please open the door! I’m sorry! There’s a rat! A rat! I’m scared! Waaah!”
Bang, bang, bang—she hammered the door with her tiny fists.
Soon, footsteps approached from the other side.
Vivian’s face lit up instantly.
They’re coming to open it!
But—
BANG!
“Eek!”
A violent kick slammed into the door from the other side, sending Vivian falling backward.
An irritated voice followed.
“Enough! It’s dinnertime, stop making noise! It’s just a rat! If you don’t want to be locked up until Sunday, stay quiet!”
“M-Mister, I’m sorry! Please let me out! I’ll apologize to Peter too! I’ll even kneel if I have to! I’m really scared! I don’t need bread, I don’t need anything! I’ll work hard! I’ll do anything you tell me!”
Vivian begged desperately through tears, but the person on the other side remained indifferent.
Ron, busy picking food out from between his teeth, clicked his tongue.
“You’ll do anything I say?”
“Yes! Yes! So please!”
“Hm… fine. Wait there.”
Click. Click.
The sound of a key turning echoed.
Vivian, who had been sitting on the floor, sprang to her feet.
“Thank you, sir!!”
Ron didn’t even respond, only gesturing lazily for her to follow.
Afraid he might change his mind, Vivian hurried behind him.
As she went down the stairs, pain suddenly shot through her hand.
“Agh…”
Looking down, she noticed a cut on her palm—she must have scraped it when she fell earlier while running from the rat. Blood smeared slightly, and she wiped it absentmindedly on her apron.
“What’s this? Honey, why did you let her out already? We said we’d keep her locked up for two more days.”
Mary frowned sharply as Vivian entered the dining room.
Across the table, Peter looked at Vivian with a mocking expression.
“She was let out because there’s no reason to keep her locked up. Vivian, sit there for a moment.”
“Yes, sir!”
Thinking she had been spared two extra days of confinement, Vivian answered brightly.
Come to think of it… it’s been so long since I sat at a table!
Ron and Mary never allowed her to sit with them. In the first place, all she ever got was a hard piece of black bread—there was no reason to sit at a table anyway.
“Mom, my elbow hurts.”
Peter whined to Mary, showing off a minor injury from falling down the stairs. Vivian pouted at how obviously fake it looked.
“Oh dear. Let’s put some medicine on it after dinner, my son.”
“But it stings when you put medicine on it.”
“You still have to, so it heals faster.”
“….”
Watching the affectionate mother and son, Vivian’s expression darkened.
It finally sank in that she would never receive such warmth again.
At that moment, Ron returned, holding a piece of paper and an ink bottle.
“Alright, Vivian. See this? Just dip your thumb in ink and press it here.”
“What… is this?”
“Does it matter? You said you’d do anything I told you.”
Vivian hesitated, unable to read the unfamiliar writing on the paper.
Ron grabbed her arm.
“Ah! It hurts!”
“You can’t even read, so why are you hesitating? I’m not doing anything bad to you.”
‘I already know you’ve done plenty!’
She swallowed the words.
Overpowered by an adult’s strength, Vivian was forced to endure as he practically poured ink over her hand.
Her eyes welled with tears.
“I-it hurts…”
“If it hurts, then hurry up and press it!”
And then she saw what the document was.
An engagement contract.
A promise that Vivian de Lambert and Peter Dozier would marry when they became adults.
Ron had picked it up earlier while taking Peter to the doctor.
Normally it required a signature—but for children who couldn’t write, a thumbprint was acceptable.
As Ron forced her thumb into position—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Someone slammed on the front door.
“What now? Who’s banging like they’re trying to break the door down at this hour?”
“You go check. It might be urgent.”
Mary urged him irritably.
Ron dropped Vivian’s hand and stomped off.
“Ow… it hurts…”
Vivian clutched her aching hand, swallowing tears. Whoever it was outside, she hoped they would drag Ron away.
And then—
As if the heavens had answered her wish—
“Aaargh!”
“Darling! What’s wrong?! Who’s there?!”
Ron screamed.
Mary jumped up in shock and rushed toward the entrance.
“Eek! H-how dare you!”
Mary also screamed.
Peter and Vivian both turned toward the door.
“A ghost!”
“Peter! My son!”
Mary rushed back into the dining room, shielding Peter behind her. Ron staggered backward, blocking something from entering.
What is it? A bear?
Vivian wondered if she should hide under the table.
“Mom!”
Peter buried himself in Mary’s arms.
And then—he entered.
A man stepped into the dining room.
Taller than Ron by at least a head.
Wet from the rain, his dark brown hair clung heavily to his face.
A rough beard covered his jaw, and his muscular frame strained against a large cloak.
His sharp blue eyes scanned the room quickly… until they landed on Vivian.
The killing intent in his gaze vanished instantly.
“….”
Small. Smaller than he remembered.
Her once-chubby cheeks had hollowed out. Her eyes were red from crying, her lips chapped.
Anyone could see it.
A child who had been abused.
The man swallowed something bitter in his throat.
“My daughter.”
His voice was heavy with sorrow, longing… and overwhelming affection.
Though slightly hoarse, it was not unfamiliar.
No.
It was a voice she had dreamed of hearing.
A voice she had longed for with everything she had.
Vivian’s eyes filled with tears again. She wiped them roughly with her dusty sleeve and looked at him.
Her lips parted.
“Who are you?”
