It has been two months already. I never found taverns interesting and had no interest in women, but I heard our young master was here. Even now he is so small, but he seemed like even more of a tiny tot when I left that house. Seeing the young master—who used to be so kind, crying and laughing so easily—with such emotionless eyes makes me want to make him cry and laugh for no reason. Well, having endured all the harsh storms of this cruel world with that fragile body and mind, it's no wonder he ended up like this. The young master back then probably wouldn't know. How I survived in that house. Why I harass him so persistently. Even if it weren't me, there would be many others to torment him. Because the people his noble father tormented must number in the hundreds, the thousands. Young master, if it hurts, cry. Just like before, like that pale, soft child; it will be easier for you that way. That is what everyone wants.

As the young master quietly pours my drink beside me, I feel as if I've become someone important. I am amazed that those slender fingers can even lift a wine bottle. It was for that reason that I snatched his hand. "Why are you acting so demure with your eyes cast down? Do you still think you're a young master?"

I wanted to tap those pale cheeks and make the tears fall. Because he looks like he might break at any moment. "Wake up from your dream. Right now, you are nothing more than someone serving me drinks. Do you understand?"