Standing next to the child, the lady with red hair stared at me. She seemed to be the mother of the child. The clothes she wore had a similar feeling.
“You look just like your grandmother.”
The hand that held my shoulder gave strength. It didn’t hurt, but it was burdensome. My gaze found the floor.
“I’m glad you found it. Yereka.”
The lady who brought me looked excited.
“Mrs. Widman. I will never forget this grace.”
“Don’t mention it. The honor of finding the successor to the West is enough. Yereka.”
As if she had done her duty, the lady stepped back. What the hell is going on between them? I felt excluded from this conversation. I needed to know whether I should run or beg.
But my confusion was less than this noble girl. The child was shaking as if she was punished. Of course, it was I who stole the child’s hand and I knew it.
“Iara.”
A hand wrapped around my shoulder helping to remove my robe. She had the same blonde hair and light green eyes. But mine were darker than hers.
“She’s your mother. Iara.”
I couldn’t even open my lips.
“Father, if you say so….”
The red-haired lady felt regretful instead of angry. The atmosphere here, the words spoken, these people, were all floating away somewhere. It didn’t seem real. Either these poor nobles are under some kind of delusion or just plain crazy.
“Maybe you’re mistaken about something.”
My throat, which had been locked for a long time, sounded dry. After I opened my mouth, the old man smiled brightly.
“You have the same voice as your grandmother!”
The old man’s laughter boomed. The dignity I felt from them at first flew away with wings. The two people in front of me looked like they were going to keel over, while the old man standing next to me hummed.
The lady with red hair seemed cold-hearted, spoke next.
“The mother of this child?”
The eyes of the red-haired lady looked to the side. The lady who brought me here bent her knee once again.
“Yere said she died when she was young, but I’ll send someone out to confirm.”
“If she is alive.”
Before the words were finished, the red-haired lady opened her lips.
“If she is alive, don’t hurt her nails, toenails or anything, bring her to me.”
She showed her position was higher than everyone else. The redhead had a knack for freezing the surroundings. Silence followed her remark. Only the excited old man dragged me forward.
“Iara.”
The tall girl raised her head. We made eye contact. Her eyes showed she was about to cry if touched.
“Sandoria.”
Then the red-haired lady murmured something. I looked up at her, but she didn’t look at me. The lady’s eyes were red, intentionally looking far away.
The lady turned around and walked away, as if she couldn’t stand it any longer. The old man next to me sighed.
“It’s not your fault. Sandoria.”
The child named Sandoria bowed her head.
“Iara.”
I peered up at the old man. These people were making a huge mistake. When the truth comes out, won’t the only one whose neck flies away be mine?
But whether or not he knew my concerns, the white-haired old man said something else.
“If she doesn’t cry and hug you, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.”
“Love?”
I felt as if I had eaten the remnants of tea. I can’t believe it’s love.
At that time, I contemplated my mother, who was moving away, Sandoria, who was standing still, and my grandfather smiling as if drawing. It wasn’t that they’re my family, or that the lady is related to me that centred my thinking. Rather, I was immersed in thoughts that this was their delusion. I was drenched in sweat that I’d be kicked out. That’s what I feared the most. I will be scolded; I will be hurt.
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The old hand that was patting my back halted. We exchanged glances. At least, I wanted to hear a definite answer from this person who looked soft.
“Iara.”
“Yes.”
“Look at your feet.”
My head bowed. In this place, covered with pale yellow stones, the stone I stood on was orange.
“The wall welcomes you. How could you not be our child?”
I looked at the stones beneath the lady and her child, they were yellow. Only the old man and my feet were on orange stones. It was warm between the toes that had been soaked in the rain. The light that warmed my wet body, the hands that pat me as if to reassure me, and Sandoria’s eyes that were trembling.
That was the first day I saw the light from the dome.
* * *
They swept the dust off me from the morning. One wiped my teeth with a soft cloth, and another put white foam on my head. The maids on either side of me rubbed my elbows. There are a lot of dark spots there, or something. A maid blew my nose, like one would a child, and one went back to brushing my hair. As a maid warmed the water, the others suddenly poured cold water on my head. They said it’s good for the skin.
They told me to stay still because they’d take care of the water. I stood with my arms open as they squeezed water from a cloth and washed me. When they thought I’d been cleaned to a certain extent they put fragrant oil in my hair again. After they told me to close my eyes the maid repeated the tedious procedure of washing me by squeezing water from the cloth.
“Yere, you must have been uncomfortable all night without a decent bedroom.”
People here don’t seem to know the true meaning of discomfort. My ass rubbed a hard floor all my life that it was almost black. I had no way of knowing whether I was being rebuked or if it was being mentioned out of curiosity.
I scratched my itchy nose. Then the woman who was brushing my hair grabbed my wrist.
“I’ll do it for you.”
I think I slept the wrong way over there.
My back arched like a slug, avoiding her fingers.
“Are you going to scratch my nose for me?”
When I looked at her as if I were looking at a sick person, everyone, including her, laughed.
“Because that’s our job. To make sure that Yere does not have to do anything.”
“Eww.”
“Yes. Good job. Please treat me like you just did, Yere.”
They applied something sticky to my chapped lips. Breathing in the fragrance of flowers, I awoke to someone’s hands braiding my hair.
“Are you awake?”
When I woke up completely, someone was wiping the saliva from my chin. So, she was doing this until I woke up. The six of them were standing there watching me as I slept.
“It was time for you to get up. Yere seems to have good sense.”
She has been saying sweet things like this since she bathed me last night. At this rate, I became worried that I wouldn’t shed tears even if I didn’t get to my appointment on time. I walked away with an awkward gesture.
Each time I took a step I heard my skirt make a sound. It was brittle and stiff. The lace that touched my skin was rough. Whether the maids would laugh or not, I stopped to scratch my calf before walking again. The six people behind me didn’t even make fun of me. They only pointed out where I had to go.
Right, Yere.
Turn left, Yere.
There was no way I had a choice. If I had to go down the stairs, I would go down, and if I had to turn around, I would turn around. The women didn’t say anything about me raising my skirts, but when someone came from the opposite side, they walked ahead and covered me.
“Yere.”
There was only one door at the end of the hall. The woman standing in front of me bowed her head then opened the door. These people did what most people could on their own. Should I be surprised or kick my tongue because it’s extravagant?
Still, it was a lot of fun to be welcomed. I was more blinded by what was set up on the table than by the people. The colour and smell it gave off twisted my stomach.
The girl named Sandoria was sitting at the table, and in front of her were the people called mother and grandfather. I sat down in an empty seat. It was next to Sandoria.
I was so hungry. The children where I lived were always hungry, and hungry children were invisible. When something to eat was thrown, I’d rushed in like a monk cat. Even if I was servile, I had to eat to survive.
“Yere. Did you sleep comfortably?”
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I don’t know who talked to me. If I saw something to eat, my hand went out first. I ripped off the leg of a bird-like thing. I brought it to my mouth, stuffed the lump inside, then lifted the watery soup that was in the bowl and poured it down my throat. I picked up the head of a fish while chewing on the sweet flesh. I didn’t know the type of fish. I didn’t even know what it tasted like. First, I put it in my mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
While my molars crushed the flesh of the fish, I tore the back of the tough bird. After swallowing it without chewing properly, I held the grilled brown meat with both hands. I just opened my mouth and mumbled, before suddenly realizing that the surroundings had gone quiet.
Their expressions were one I’d never seen before. Their faces were more desperate than children caught crossing the wall in broad daylight. Grandfather wrinkled his nose, and mother stopped and covered her mouth with a handkerchief.
It was funny when I wasn’t in a situation to laugh. I laughed because I couldn’t smile, but the meat I was chewing fell out of my mouth. I hurriedly picked it up and popped it back in my mouth.