The mother in memory always had a worrying look.

Particularly well remembered is its side. Because his mother often stared out the window, it was thought that he, who was young, would also have had the most opportunity to stare at the side of it.

He sits shallow on his chair, putting his spine upright and staring quietly out the window. The appearance was both rigorous and haphazard. It was, above all, to him, who loved his mother, an appearance that induced nagging chest pain.

'Mother, why do you always look so lonely?

I asked that when I was still a long time old.

The mother had her eyes narrowed with great sorrow after looking at her with terrible surprise.

'I don't miss anything.' Cause I'd be happy if you'd stay with me. '

It was immediately apparent that it was a lie to reassure him, but no more words could be overlapped. I also didn't want to grieve my dear mother, so I never asked her that again after that.

Their mother and son lived on the outskirts of a town called Dabbagh.

Built on a hill, it's a big, old mansion. The building was surrounded by stone walls, but was originally built on high ground, so it was a very fine mansion that could overlook the ranch of Caron under its eyes.

Of course, the master of this mansion was noble.

His mother was in a position where nobility entrusted him with his absence.

This mansion is a separate residence, so my husband's nobility only stops by a few times a year. The rest of the time, the servants, headed by their mothers, lived in and worked in cleaning rooms and garden care.

But it wasn't until after that that that he found out about the fact.

At least, until I was about seven or eight years old, I had misidentified my mother as the master of this mansion.

That was because I had seen many other servants behave respectfully towards their mothers.

Even though the other servants seem busy working every day, the mother behaves so gracefully that the day knits, reads, and teas for everyone. And he was never charged with the work of home, either, and he had learned how to handle swords, ride tototos, read and write the words of the west, so he assumed that he was in a different position from his servant.

The perception was half hit and half off.

He and his mother were in a different position from those around them. But after all, he belonged to a servant.

It was not long before he turned ten that he was reminded of it differently.

After a nobleman visited the mansion for crackling and returned again, his mother was to inform him of the fact.

'Encourage me to help you too. Because that's the most noble mission for you.'

The mother said so.

I wasn't too convinced of him.

'I don't know anything about that man. Why should I be loyal to such a human being?

'... because he is our master. It is because of you that we have lived without any shortcomings.'

'Even so, the most important thing for me is my mother. As long as I'm your mother, I'll be happy. "

The mother was shaking her neck beside her with a very sad eye.

'Then please think it's for me, and give it to him. And for you, that's the right way to go.'

I knew he wasn't convinced.

But I didn't want my mother to look sad, so I left nothing to say back on the spot.

From then on, I decided to work harder on my learning than ever before.

I was determined to be a fine person to protect myself and my mother's life.

Sometimes the owner of a visiting mansion doesn't like anything. He was a creepy little man from the outside, and he didn't like his transgressive attitude towards servants. And most importantly, it touched me the most that my mother seemed eager for the little man's visit.

It was that noble little boy who was making his mother feel sad.

The mother waited for the little man to come and stared out the window all the time.

(Just because you're noble, why did your mother give you such a flamboyant little man... that's not a good match for your mother)

Feeding such thoughts, he went into different training.

Even if you don't take care of such a nobleman, let your mother have a happy life. For that reason, he was determined that he should now accumulate power.

Fortunately, he seemed to be equipped with something called sword skill.

They were more suited to sex using the body than using the head. Even though the language in the west is hard to improve, the handling of sword moves and tototosses often surprised people as guides, who by the age of thirteen had finally been able to grow up to be able to take one from their sword master.

"Shit. That was a brilliant fat muscle right now. You won't be your opponent anymore."

The person, who was struck in the arm and dropped the wooden sword, said so in an admirable manner.

A little over forty years old, it is a people of the west. He was in a very disappointing physique, but not so much the same back length as he was anymore with eastern blood in it.

"Me, with my sword, can I live?

When he asked that, the man nodded, "Yes," as he rubbed his wrist.

"Because there's no battle around here, they don't ask for sword arms that much. If you were me, you'd be leading the Knights."

"The Knights? .. I, like you, would like to live"

"Like me? I am nothing but a guardian. It's also the Guardian of Moguri, not authorized by the King's Capital."

"But the arm of the sword, I'll live on it, I think it's great. I have something to protect."

The man looked very upset.

"So you may live as the knight of the kingdom. If you were me, your blood would be perfect."

"Blood muscles?" he tilted his neck, and the man changed his complexion to a lid.

"Oh, no, this is a silence... I'm sorry. Forget the words now."

"Blood muscle, what does that mean? You, my father, you know?

He was to be stuffed by a man, honking his chest.

"Me, father, I don't know. Mother, you won't talk to me. If you know, I want you to tell me."

"Oh, no, so the..."

"Mother, noble blood muscles, no. You, me, noble blood muscle, if you say so, father, must know."

Then the man got on his knees on the ground, turning bright blue.

"Duh, please give me a break. It is not acceptable for me to speak of a story that you have not been informed of by your mother. What if something like that gets into his ear... wow, I'll get my neck snapped!

The guiding role of sword moves was then to be replaced by another human being.

Whether it was because he was no longer worthy of his disciple's skill, or simply fled, he didn't even know it. It's just that it's a big contradiction for him to explore the identity of his father - so it's understandable that the people around him have a conjecture about who he is.

That's how I welcomed you, the 16-year-old year.

The mother's soul was to be summoned by God.

A mother with lung disease has left the world without merit of nursing a physician called from the center of Doug.

'Apparently, that's all I've done... from now on, I'm going to do it for you...?

On the floor of death, her mother had stated so.

He questioned diligently as he grabbed his mother's fingertips, which had become as thin as another.

"Mother, am I, after all, the son of that man?

"... I love you more than anyone, Sanjula"

And her mother took her breath away.

He - the fate of Sanjula of Doug - was to screw the day wide into the border.

◇

It was the day after that that that a pick-up car arrived from Genos.

All the servants were fired and the mansion was sold.

Sanjula lost her birthplace and a handful of acquaintances at the same time as her mother.

All that was left of Sanjula was the skill of the sword moves he had grown over the past sixteen years.

Others do not possess a single piece of copper coin. Escape on this occasion would have had no choice but to drop oneself into a burglar or something.

With a sense of loss and vanity in his chest, Sanjula was to be taken away by Genos.

It was then that Sanjula was to be informed for the first time that it was the Knights of a town called Genos who had always escorted that little man.

Those martial officers did not try to tell Sanjula anything. They also did not seem to have much respect for Sanjula's qualities. Speaking of which, when the little man visited the mansion, Sanjula had never been clearly seen by them either because she was always kept away from her mother.

It was that night that we arrived in the town of Genos.

Remaining pushed into Totos' car, Sanjula was to creep through the castle gate and be led to its splendid mansion.

This stone house is even more magnificent than Doug's apartment.

It was a stone house built in the stone capital.

He is walked down the stone corridor with two martial arts officers strangling him from left to right.

Eventually, when I was invited inside a huge door - there was that little boy nobleman.

"Thank you for your hard work... keep it out of the door..."

The martial officers are leaving the room.

The little man sitting in the bench was wearing Sanjula with glowing eyes like a poison needle.

"This was the first time you had a proper greeting.. I am Cycleus, the head of Count Turan's house"

Sanjula stared back at his opponent silently.

After all, he's a creepy little guy. Since I first saw it more than a decade ago, my impression hasn't changed at all. I just looked a lot paler with the addition or subtraction of light.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother... I turned to the doctor who said she was the best in Doug, but this would have been heavenly destiny... because she wasn't a sturdy woman..."

........

"His mother has been loyal to me for a long time... and I will give him, his son, an adequate life... in the future, do it for me..."

"... You, why, Doug, didn't you come?

Sanjula said that half-onset.

"My mother, I've been waiting for your visit. My mother, the demon took me, a month ago. Genos, half a day away in Totos, but you, why, Doug, didn't you come?

".. As the head of the Count family, I have a pile of work to do. Yeah, well, you can't leave Genos at ease..."

"You, my mother, didn't you love me?

Cycleus, an aristocratic little man, has narrowed his little eyes so narrowly that he pokes poisonous glances at Sanjula.

"Be careful what you say, Sanjula the Doug... because it was all with my strength that I was able to live a more peaceful life until that year..."

"My mother, you, loved me. I just want to know if you, my mother, loved me."

Cycleus closed his eyelids.

That way, when the poisonous glance was hidden, its wrinkly face turned into something powerless at once.

"Enough is enough. Back off... I'm getting ready for the guest room, so I can rest there for a while... because they've just lost their mother, and they'll be disturbed..."

Cycleus rang a silver bell with his eyelids closed.

The door opens and the martial arts officers come into the room.

"Guide the Guest to the Guest.. If necessary, prepare dinner.."

Sanjula burned the figure to his eyes at the end, and then returned the blemishes.

Pulled out the door and walked down the stone corridor again.

It was as if it were a labyrinthine mansion.

There are plenty of candlesticks on the wall, but they quickly don't know where or how to be guided.

Besides, Sanjula herself wasn't in a decent position to recognize what was going on around her.

Empty in his chest, he is in a mood where the fire of chaos and fierceness is dull. I don't even know what to be angry about when I'm about to be crushed by anger or carelessness. If I insist, Sanjula may have been angry at herself for being helpless with nothing to exchange.

At that time, the martial officers stopped to the lid.

He gently drives Sanjula's body towards the wall, crossing the spear in front of him.

It was like he was trying to give way because someone approached him from across the corridor.

Little shadows and big ones.

The smaller one seemed to be a princess and the bigger one a martial officer.

These martial arts officers are pinching their spines as they stop Sanjula from moving.

Too far down the street, the little princess has scorned the Sanjuras.

"A customer at such a late hour? He's carrying ingredients again, is that Sim's merchant?

"is.. a guest of the Count"

"Uh-huh..." the princess narrowed her eyes to Urunya.

The word is firm, but he is a truly young princess. It would be like six or seven years old at best. The height and the like seemed to be only about the stomach of Sanjula.

He wears a luxurious costume around his little body. White-crushed from top to bottom, the decoration of multiple overlapping strands is very beautiful. I had no idea how many copper coins I would be able to get this much outfit on my hands, Sanjula.

(But I don't know... you're a kid with a bad eye)

Sanjula thought so with a blur.

Beautifully you are a princess with a beautiful, very neat face. Light shaded hair creases beautifully and the skin is white as if it had never daylight. When you grow up, you will grow into a lady who will make noise about the breasts of sawdust men.

Now, the princess had a strange dejected eye.

On the shore of arrogance, majesty, and with the sight of the enemy, Sanjula and the others. He had a disturbing eye for the toddlers like he was constantly irritated by something.

"... so your father is going home to the mansion, right?

"Yes, but the Count said it was time to rest..."

"You don't have to slap the extra mouth. Let's go, Muscle."

The big man's martial officer shrugged his shoulders to intimidate the Sanjuras and walked off the corridor with the princess.

To the relieved martial officers, Sanjula calls with a voice that has killed her emotions.

"Who are you now, Count Turan, your daughter?

"... Yes. My first daughter, Princess Lifreia."

Sanjula slowly looked back at the end of the corridor.

But the princesses had already turned the corner, and nowhere could they see that.

(... did Cycleus have a daughter? Still, did you keep going to my mother)

It was like a flame of passion filling my bare chest.

For Sanjula, who is only sixteen years old, it was an intolerable night of pain.