/p>

Perhaps relieved to be rid of me.

Of course, it's a rare and happy dinner where the entire family could sit up and get together. I shouldn't have done something so rude such as talking about myself. It was only a test. Even something as simple as 'how was your day' is a pretext.

Talking about the outside makes Lilyanne upset.

An upset and complaining Lilyanne tires out our mother. Who for all her comforts and gifts, cannot sate all the wants a little girl must-have. To play and see the world. Unaware of all the horrors, of how bruises and scrapes must feel.

To her, the dry blood that cracked on my fingertips was as novel and pretty as a strange new flower.

A tired and worried Mother, then of course, upsets Father. The man that devotes himself to his wife, if anything.

I messed up, again.

I am not to upset Lilyanne.

Everything could have been avoided if only I did not upset feeble little Lilyanne. And I upset her by talking about myself. Another fail.

It's a very tiresome life, no matter how luxurious. To constantly be watching one's every move and decision. As a noble, even the smallest of my decisions ripples across multitudes of people. From my servants, the workers, the community living outside my walls, and the world beyond. It is not arrogance or an exaggeration when one is in my position of power.

A tiny rock, a mere pebble, can be a force when thrown into a pond.

It's even worse, in my opinion, to be the irresponsible one. Unknowing, unaware, and seemingly blameless. The one that hurts others without fail, doing whatever one wants. With no repercussions despite the trouble and damage, they cause.

More than anything, I don't want to be that person. That fool.

I curtsy low, ankles crossed in all the right places. Carefully, properly, I step backward to respectfully exit.

I cannot do so quickly enough. When I cross the closed doors of the dining room, I can still hear them.

Like a fool, I still stay. Back pressed to that door I closed myself. Listening to everything.

"Darling, how could you? Was it papa? Oh, he knows he's not to take any of the girls onto any unbefitting outings! It isn't lady-like! How could you let him?"

"It would be in everyone's interest if Rosalia learns how to handle and ride multiple types of mounts. Not solely well-bred horses."

"Well, where would she ever need that? Flightless birds, you know how much they peck?! Did you not see what they did to her hands? "

"How lacking would the daughter of Ventrella be if we raised her like a carved doll. Strength does not come from softness."

"She is weak. Darling, she is weak and we-"

"My young miss." the door clicks fully.

The hall would be dark if not for the lantern held by the head butler's gloved hand. There is a little girl that does not cry, because she is not a cry baby. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt at all. If she keeps telling herself that, it will come true.

The pain in her fingertips, the tired muscles and blooming bruises could almost easily be numbed. All a trick of the mind. A silent meditation of sorts. Work. Numb. Rest. Work again the next day like new.

But it didn't seem to work very well with this strange sensation inside her chest.

How inconvenient.

"Alfonso. Please prepare my study table in the library. I seemed to have recalled a lot of unfinished material left piled up. Grandfather's outings tend to be very distracting." I straighten my back, walking back to my quarters to change from the child's dinner gown into something more relaxed for the rest of the evening.

"But, my young miss, you have yet to finish your dinner. " the old butler reminds me.

"...I'm not hungry. For once. Grampa forced me to shoot, roast, and eat some very strange things today. Said I needed to train my stomach. I'm not sure if they were all edible? Things to note down though." she continues walking.

Small steps so silent that don't echo despite the emptiness of the wide hall.

In the day, the youngest miss Lilyanne's giggles could be heard running down these very halls. Ribbons and twirls of her playthings. Life and joy blooming forth.

At night, it is only the eldest young miss that ominously walks these halls. Sometimes loaded with books and papers. Sometimes still in riding boots or the dirtied shirt fit for a serf, soaked in her own blood and sweat. Sometimes without even a light. It was practice.

For what is better not to be stated in polite company.

"Dessert then? Today's menu includes a tart, from freshly gathered and roasted nuts. " the wise old man offered.

For all little girls, this one especially seemed to have a separate stomach for sweets.

"I suppose a bit of something to go with tea will be acceptable. " she let out a dainty cough, a mere imitation of something she had seen from somewhere.

"Of course, young miss Rosalia. "

"Alfonso?'

"Yes, my young miss. "

"What does it mean to be stronger?"

"...This servant cannot say, my young lady. For there are many definitions, and many forms that question or answer can take. "

The hall stretches. The walk even longer if one takes the proper steps, as a dignified lady should. A detour through the courtyards. Fresh air, though cold. It helps the numb.

"Obviously, I can't splinter a tree into bits of firewood. As does Grampa. Ah. What monstrous strength...where did that bloodline ability go...."

Wisely, the old butler does not make a peep to that.

"Even if I was born male, it appears I would lack that strength. I'm not anywhere near as smart nor quick to process as my father. As a female, I don't have Mother's grace or poise. I can't stay calm. I look like this, but I really can't stay calm at all. I can't do anything right."

Suppose a child hits a tree. Nothing would happen at all.

They might even get a few splinters and hurt themselves. Suppose then, she hits it again. And again. Over and over. Tired arms and tense fists turn to rough swinging kicks.

"What am I supposed to do? Be a lady? Be stronger? Be weaker? Be smarter? Play more properly. Everything is lacking. Everything I do is lacking!? It's all a contradiction?! Chicken shit! Shit shit shit! Stupid giant chicken chocoboboboo whatever bird! What do I look like!? I'll make you into a breaded fillet and eat you with your own children, with relish! Stupid Lilyanne! With her pretty soft hands and thin pretty curls that never sees sunlight. Do you think it's fun!? Do you think I'm just leaving bed every day to play around and have fun!? Oh, I'll have fun alright, right as you all eat chicken shit!"

Of course, with all the efforts of a normal child, the tree does not turn to firewood or even fall. It does, however, take on a very dented and ugly shape at every constant point of impact. Scrapped bark, exposed and splintering with every hit.

"Chicken. Shit!" the little girl huffs and puffs, looking nothing like the little lady she was raised to be.

Her own carefully ribboned and tucked braids nearly loose from the activity and natural curls. Released anger contouring her cute little face into something as ugly as herself inside.

"Ahem. It appears, Alfonso, that my grampa has caused a bit of trouble in Mother's courtyard. This poor tree was a victim, luckily it's still standing. Tis but a scratch for him. Do be sure to tell the gardeners to see to it. " she finally turns, composing herself with a mild rosy blush.

A face like her father's, not so much in the features but in how almost naturally it quickly fell back into place. Blank and unassuming. As if she had nothing to do with it, accusing even the next available person.

"Perhaps a pack of...chickens...was let loose upon this one poor tree. How fortunate they avoided the rest of the garden on their way. " Alfonso nodded slowly.

"A far too strange coincidence indeed. I see." the little girl knocks her own fist in her hand, finally seeing the big picture.

How silly of her to lose sight of it in her emotions. Feelings were such a bothersome and pesky thing.

About 17 minutes of the peaceful twinkling night sky and a childish, muffled, rageful screaming had the garden courtyard looking more thoroughly rampaged through. As if a violently wild pack of something with very small feet and could jump decently far had paraded through.

"A shame. Those chickens. Grampa should do something about them. Tsk tsk." young Rosalia walked away, scraping her dainty shoes of any evidence.

"...I believe, my young miss, that the honorable Lady of the house will have a bit more to drink tonight."

"If that's what it takes to set up the scene believably. Then, I thank you, my dear Alfonso. For comforting my honorable mother about the fate of one of her courtyards. I've changed my mind about the study just yet. I am suddenly in need of a hot refreshing bath. "

"Right away, my young miss Rosalia. "

"By the way, Alfonso, has a new fitting etiquette teacher been found yet? " she asks, feeling lighter and refreshed already, even without the bath.

"....I believe, my young miss, that after the rumors of the severance of the last three, the search is taking as long as expected," he informs to her satisfaction.

Rosalia nodded. The rumors were annoying but useful to an extent. Information was power, as was fear. Something a girl as weak as herself had no choice but to rely on.

"Oh my. It appears that my skill level and understanding are just so high. Oho~ It can't be helped. The search for someone who can actually school me, the eldest miss of the Ventrellas. Surely, everyone knows?" she laughed lightly, manners already memorized for a girl twice her age.

But society and the rules were always changing. Fashions came and went. It really was very bothersome to keep up, let alone waste time and money of paying someone to tell her how?

"Of course, my young miss. " the butler followed and bowed.

"...Even Father?"

One statement. Two words. Countless of questions in between.

"Of course, my young miss. "

Only one answer.

"...what was I expecting. Well, that's a matter for another day. Shame about that old music teacher though. Pray tell me, Alfonso. Can she move her hands again yet?" the young girl brushed it off.

She had more important things to do than worry over every action, and non-action from the Lord Father of hers. She would get nothing done that way, and it would be an endless cycle of uselessness.

Of a pain she can't will away.

"Last I've been reported with, no. Not yet my young miss." the old butler stated, snapping open the already prepared dressing and bathing rooms.

The warm scented steam wafted, and the little girl sighed.

"Truly a shame. Do send her another get well gift, as manners dictate. Courtesy of me, her latest and last student. The same as last time, another silver finger. To replace the ones she lost. " she states concernedly, playing with her gloves.

Bends of fingers and flesh, mocking. If not for the glint in her eyes, far too much like her father's, it could have been seen as a nervous but innocent gesture. A sweet smile, laced with cruelty just underneath.

A little girl with her own means and conclusions. Not yet ten years old.

As expected.

"Of course, young miss Rosalia. Tea and tarts shall be ready at your leisure after your bath. "

"Thank you. "

Tea and tarts. Hmmm.

Her stomach rumbled. No?

My stomach is rumbling.

I gasp and wake up, instantly much smaller and younger. Still grasped in the heat of mother's arms like a stuffed animal.

"Tea and tarts~" my mother drools in her sleep, rolling over and taking me along with her.

No no no I do not like this ride! Get me out!

"Yaaay Rosa no zzzz zzzzz nap nap no mores. Fun Rosa?" my baby sister clamors from where she's making a mess of the little chalkboard.

"No Lilyanne, it is not fun! How long have I been, no, why did I fall asleep? Get me out of here?!"

In that manner, with my sister running back and forth from the little snack corner of the cage, we slowly gather oil. Just enough to oil mother's arms so I can wiggle out and replace the empty space with a pillow. It takes a while and is quite messy, but success!

Now I am free!

Except for this cage thing. I need out.

That dream of mine was a bit unsettling. It makes me restless in ways I don't fully understand. But so does a lot of Rosalia's specific memories.

It was already a very sad life. Why remember it any more than is necessary? Those superfluous details.

Wait.

Pain. Numb. Pain and numb? That. That!

"Father! Let me out, I have something to discuss with you!" I slam and press myself against the side closest to his desk.

"Yes my dear, I can hear you quite well from here. ``The nerd smiles, not once looking up from the case file number who knows, who cares.

"Father, it is quite important. " I climb, looking, pressing and looking for any way to magically unlock this thing.

It is to no avail though, and of course, a man as well prepared as Father has figured out my odd habit of undoing magic locks.

I may have been abusing that as of late since I've become aware of it. Just a bit. Oho~

Ahem I mean. How was I supposed to know certain things or areas are off-limits!? Even my own employee dorms and housing?

I just wanted to see what the construction and remodeling were like. How people who aren't me live. My modern sense of building standards approves.

Even Barabara's and Nikola's little new townhouse is safe and adorable! But only one bed?! Ohoho! Such a cute love nest~

Ah...is this punishment then? I thought Georgie was just exaggerating about tattling on me.

"Father!" I yell, resorting to that shameless weapon.

With one press of a button though, a door slides open against one of the well-disguised padded walls of the cage. It does not lead out, clearly. But it is instead a toilet and small bathroom.

When and how did he get this thing installed?

"That's not what I meant," I start to complain, but nature does call.

"I'll be back!" I warn him, just before I slam the door to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, relieved and a bit more cleaned up, I'm back to banging on the cage.

As frustrating as it is, I must marvel at the construction. Such a sturdy and seemingly escape-proof thing. I want to see if I can put the minions in here to test this out.

"You cold, cruel fiend of a father. I have things better spoken of in absolute privacy. With at least a level of respect and no-" I hit the cage in between us.

"Oho...ho ho...sexy fiend...." mother, unfortunately, snores in hearing range.

I will just...pretend, I didn't hear that.

"Smexy!" Lilyanne parrots, not understanding a thing but repeating every bad influence ever.

Oh chicken shit.

"Father, it's a very bad idea to leave us here with mother. See. Lilyanne is learning bad things already.

As I finally make a decent argument, putting dear sweet Lilyanne's innocent mind at risk, Father finally beeps the button that somehow undoes the seamless doorway to this cage.

Freedom at last!

*click*

Huh?

"I suppose an exercise wheel does not replicate sunlight nor air that children should have. I should install a sunroof of sorts. Hmm. But for now, you two may stretch about in the courtyard. I understand also, how my Rosalia needs her booklets. The tables are hardly enough for Lilyanne to draw on.'' Father has somehow instantly appeared from his seat to click Lilyanne's toddler leash into place.

A smart idea for a girl as troublesome as this.

The problem is the thing on my ankle.

Isn't this the ankle leash I modified myself? What the hell?! Ahhhhhh! Thief! Plagiarism! My design, my own idea, used against me!

"Yaaaay. Can Lily go pick flowers?" my sister asks, as well trained as she can get.

"Only by the low grass, don't make your mother and the gardeners cry by destroying their hard work." Father gives her a little hug and pat on her gleeful head.

"Yaaaaay! Thankies Papa!" Lilyanne hugs and smooches him, skipping out shamelessly.

This happens all in the span of time I am still pulling at the stupid ankle leash. How was this thing even made?!

I know it's escapable. I've even seen a brain-damaged brat do it. But how?! Arrrg!

"Didn't you have something you wanted to speak to me about, Rosalia?" Father finally turns to me. His other hellspawn, in her own right, prancing off to pick pretty flowers and roll around in some grass or something.

"...I did. But I also want you to know that I sincerely hate you Father. " I cry, tugging at the leash.

So mean. What had an innocent girl like Rosalia done to deserve all the unfair treatment she was given. That's why, on her behalf, I will never take her painful life lessons for granted.

For me though, what have I done to deserve this?!

A leash!? Am I a prisoner in need of an ankle monitor?! Why I've never!

...Okay there was one time, but I was young, dumb, and in extenuating circumstances that caused great misunderstandings in public. Our drunken charges and records were cleared! Mostly. I'm pretty sure they were?

But I mean right now, as little Rosalia!

What have I done to deserve this already unfair level of treatment! What is this discrimination bias?!

"There there, it can't be helped," Father pats me on the back, already settling me on his lap as he scoots back to work on his desk.

My vocal cries silenced with a few dried snacks that his long fingers stuff into my mouth.

This feels terrifyingly familiar. I sincerely hope Father isn't thinking I am as terrible to deal with as a hungover Mother. It brings me even more mortification if he regards us as some sort of similar creature.

But more importantly, before I get distracted if my father manages to avoid the topic again, I need to attack.

"I believe I have a partial grasp of numbing pain! If I experience an injury of sorts, then I can somewhat fool myself into thinking it doesn't hurt. Which isn't normal at all! Say smashed fingers, small flesh wounds, and even sore muscles. But that's not as effective as turning it off. It's also very mentally taxing since I must refocus on not feeling and that is certainly unnatural. But that's as much as I can naturally figure out on my own so-"

"...You've...done...what exactly, my dear?" Father's smile turns brilliantly blinding.

Uh oh. That's his too professional smile. Too good looking. The one he makes when he's very inconvenienced or dare I say it, angry.

"...I've...made...my own conclusions...naturally. " I attempt to figure out where I misspoke in my haste. It must have been in a lot of places.

"How is that? How were those conclusions made, hmm my perilous little daughter? ``Father repeats, a smile nearly twitching behind the shiny sparkle.

They say animals only show their teeth in threat. So thus I can only assume death is waiting around the corner for me. My little oversized per body ratio head working overtime to ensure my survival against the villain I call Father.

"...From...grampa? "

Safe! Law of the Ventrella family. Anything and everything can be reasonably explained and blamed on grampa!

Please buy it, Father.

Before he can get another word out, or threaten me, a crash and rumble of things sound out from the playpen cage side of the room.

"Mmmm, where am I, and what was I doing? Darling? Oh a new cage?! Ohohoho my love you shouldn't have! You know I'm already all yours to love~ Ohohohoho!!!"

Silently, I look up to Father's suddenly blank, and possibly very mortified, expression. Likewise, I can understand his feelings of shame. Though surely not to his extent. For he married that. Mother that is.

Between both of us, we shall just pretend we never heard that.

"We shall speak of this later, Rosalia. But there will be no more self-testing. None. Do you hear and understand me?" he says, voice suddenly sharp as it is cold.

It makes goosebumps rise down from the curve of my neck and down my spine. Pooling something dreadfully anxious in my belly, tingling fear to the tip of my fingers. Something scarily too familiar.

Not me.

This anxiety isn't mine. It belongs to Rosalia. That tone with Father's voice. That old dream, the collected memories. It made this body have this reaction.

"I didn't self-test anything, ever. It even wasn't my fault-"

"Rosalia. Any injury is to be treated and reported to me, immediately. Do you understand?"

A meticulous and careful man with little to no room for errors. A reasonable man, despite all his cruelty. He has his plans and motivations for everything.

Even my abuse by those lowly servants and tutors. Everything.

"...Yes Father, this one understands. " I lie, nodding my heavy head low.

I just took a morning nap, yet somehow, it feels like I already need another. How annoying. This fragile, and confusing, little life of mine is truly very annoying.

I'd rather be hungover in a modern jail cell again. At least being a drunken public disturbance is actually my fault. Something I can see, sign off, and face. As were any rowdy terrible accomplices in crime. Or any snickering brat helping with bail.

Even dealing with my own 'loving' parents is easier than this. Messed up and tense yes, but surprisingly easier. At least, in comparison to this.

Right now, these two people seem to think they still care about Rosalia. Perhaps due to her young age. In their own way, they try to care.

I'm not blind enough not to notice that.

But neither am I stupid enough to believe in it. It's just because she's so small right now. Or that I'm slowly proving my worth in usefulness. That's why they're occasionally soft or even familiar to me.

It won't last.

It's a problem either way. When this strange kindness will end, how far can it stretch? So I need to work hard to prove my usefulness, but not in the way Rosalia did. Not anywhere so sincerely, not ever. Not again.

Just long enough to grow up and get away.

It will all be better when I can finally get away, standing on my own two feet. Isn't that what life taught me? Being on my own. Relying on myself. Cutting my ties, even if I loved them, was the healthiest thing I could do for myself. Like a toxic infection, out of my own flesh. The best thing I've ever done for myself was to leave.

It would have been smarter to never look back. To not care about them. But I did.

Look where that got me. Nothing but more pain and headaches. J.J. was right, watching it all. I was better off not caring. But easier said than done.

"No, no you don't understand. " Father tips my head, breaking me out of my own thoughts.

Wrong place, wrong time, for such ruminating I see.

"You don't understand a thing, and that's why it's dangerous. No more making your own conclusions from partial pieces and running away with them. It's dangerous, especially for us. Do you understand, Rosalia?"

"Yes, Father." I say once again, only this time more convincingly.

I'm only three years old, soon to be four. Of course, I must act a bit more simply, easily, to reassure these adults. I must not show unease, nor doubt.

Father looks down at me with a strange expression, unreadable if not for the experience I've gained over two lifetimes.

He still doubts me. Of course, he does.

"We'll speak of this another day. No more, Rosalia. No more smiling like your sister and then turning around to defy me. There will be repercussions whether you understand or not. "

Oooompf. Harsh much? That's not even a doubt! He just assumed I would...well, he's not wrong. But how did he already figure me out?!

I've been far too careless and activated too many of this nerd's mental alerts. Oh woe is me.

"Ahem, an honored guest is calling. " a knocking comes from the doorway, our head butler and Father's private all in one secretary politely making his presence known.

It gives us, at least, the precious few seconds to compose ourselves. All before a holy, but confused, deep voice rings out. Like the call of an angel, sounding out the horn for the end of all times.

"...Is that a cage?!" Gable most certainly does twitch, no smile in sight.

It is not with rudeness, but a blessed grace that he storms his way in past Alfonso.

"...After all these years. What is wrong with you?" Gable turns to me and my captor.

Such cold piercing eyes. No element of nature could compare! Oh my little heart, it can't take it! What horror, what slow-burning hatred simmered into something like charcoal but so alluring! It's a never before felt sort of doki doki going on inside me.

"Gabbie dear!" mother runs and slams herself into the cage. It vibrates with a horrifying echo as if threatening to break.

But of course, it doesn't. No matter how much my mother, still a bit dazedly with sleep and alcohol, pries at it, the thing just doesn't give.

"Ohohoho what an amusing thing?! Gabbie just look how much my darling loves me!~ Kyaaa! Oh ho ho....this will hold me good. But Gabbie....he doesn't actually love me enough....for he won't make another cute baby with me...oh boo hoo...boo hoo hoo!"

She must still be under too much influence of something, too out of her mind to be saying all this out loud. In front of Gable no less.

Horrified, the three of us look awkwardly in between each other. As if all agreeing we simply never heard anything. My father and Gable especially, for they share a few strange silent glares. My father quickly miming his own head being shot off before gesturing to a confused Mother playing with the netting and bars.

"I see....and do not blame you...this time. " Gable sigh, trying to ease the tension in his own temples.

"Honorable Father-in-law tested out the strength and durability of the material himself. " Father adds on.

"...That's...wonderful. " Gable signs into his palm as if this would all go away if he kept his eyes.

"It can, perhaps, hold up to a zone three glacier temperature. '' Father really sells it. For reasons I didn't realize were even a thing.

Gable takes a long minute to compose himself as if very tempted to demand a model installed right this very day. Strongly willing himself against it.

"A sturdy exercise wheel, to tire them, can easily be attached and hooked up to any power able device. My youngest has already tested it to various success. There's even an unreachable compartment for cheese or treats. "

"....Three." Gable holds out those exact digits on his fingers.

"It shall take some time, honorable sire, but yes. Doable. " Father nods to the order.

Sold! Three cage models and human hamster wheels sold! The winner is...

Wait. What is even going on here?!

"Ron is...supervising a certain charge of mine. It's that time of year, where that child is allowed one chaotic wish of this 'birthday party'. I am here to request permission to invite the children to play." Gable tries very hard not to look at the cage, where Mother is happily waving.

She is still trying to get attention.

"By all means, honorable sire. Please. Do take care and consideration of my girls, this troubling one especially. Chippy is my fault, it appears.'' Father holds me up, patting me against his chest.

"Oh no fair darling! The ladies at tea were right! They do all go for younger women eventually!" the still drunk person we all agreed to ignore cries.

"You've...had it hard, Frederick. " Gable must admit to my father.

"Yes. But it can't be helped. " Father pets my head, not unlike a scene in a certain mobster movie.

With a whistle, my father has Lilyanne running over and up to him at the desk. She drops the offerings of pulled up flowers, dirt and roots still attached to them, right at his feet.

"Tada!" Lilyanne cheers.

"Yes. How lovely. " Father agrees, picking her up along with me.

With an embarrassing kiss on our heads, he hands over the leashes to the only responsible adult unit we've ever had apparently. With a snap of his fingers, he has Alfonso ready with not only my purse but two overnight bags packed for my sister and me.

"Say goodbye to your mama now," Father states, before fully handing us over for the surprisingly approved trip.

"Bye bye Mama!" Lilyanne cutely blows kissy faces.

"Will Mother even remember this later on?!" I question.

"Rosalia, " my father warns.

"... I bid you a good day and adieu, Mother dearest. "

With that, and a few 'kyaaa so cute, we should make babies that cute' my sister and I are off.-->>

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