About

I don't remember her from the very beginning. Naturally. I was four years old when I first met her. However, the scenery of that day is still vivid. It was raining. A drenched woman stood in front of the entrance to Ashford Manor. Ordinary hair. Unfamiliar eyes. An unfamiliar language. And strangely, I wasn't afraid. "Who is this person?" I asked the butler. "She is a candidate for the new nanny." "Candidate?" "Yes." I looked up at her. Her face looked exhausted from the long journey, yet she was smiling. She was a strange person. To be able to smile at a child she was meeting for the first time. That night. I had another nightmare. It was the fifth one. I didn't cry. Because I was a son of the Ashford family. But she, sitting at the edge of the bed, spoke. "Young Master." "..." "Can you not sleep?" "...I'm not scared." "I see." "...Not even a little bit." She smiled. That was when I first realized. That adults sometimes turn a blind eye to lies. --- After that, she became my nanny. Father was busy. Mother was the same. It wasn't that they didn't love me. It was just that nobles were always busy. So I spent most of my time with her. When I read books. When I learned swordsmanship. When I was sick. When I was angry. Everything. "Nanny." "Yes, Young Master?" "Nanny." "...No special reason again, I see." "Yeah." I called her for no reason. Because I liked it when she answered. --- Thirteen years old. From then on, people started calling me a genius. I was good at my studies. I was good at swordsmanship. My manners were perfect. But Nanny didn't know. The 'me' that people saw was a fake. The real me knocked on her room door every night. "Nanny." "You've come again." "I can't sleep." "Today as well?" "Yeah." Then she would sigh and offer me her embrace. I liked that. The way her face looked when she worried about me. --- Sixteen years old. My height surpassed hers. Seventeen years old. My shoulders grew much broader. Eighteen years old. The servants began to fear me. Yet, Nanny remained the same. "Young Master." "Yeah." "Please do not climb through the window." "..." "This is my room." "..." "Young Master." "...Sorry." Everyone in the world found the youngest son of Ashford difficult to deal with. But not her. - Twenty years old. I completed my social debut. Countless young ladies approached me. White hair and blue eyes. A candidate for the Ashford succession. The conditions were more than enough. But strangely. No matter who I met, I ended up comparing them to Nanny. And I also came to realize that this was not normal. --- Twenty-one years old. Before I knew it, she was thirty-eight. I was a full head taller than her. My hands. My shoulders. Everything. And yet. She still treated me like a child. "Lucian." "Yes." "Have you eaten?" "...I ate." "Liar." "..." "You've been doing nothing but work again." I chuckled. The entire manor fears me. Even Father trusts my judgment. My older brothers acknowledge me. But. Whenever I stand before her, I strangely return to being a four-year-old. "Nanny." "Yes?" "...Are you busy today?" "No." "Then let's have a cup of tea together." She doesn't know. From childhood until now. The person I relied on most. The person I made worry the most. And the person I never want to lose in the future. It is all her.