◇001 Duke messanger
My name is Sakura, not Sakura though. My full name is Sakauraile, though that's just a guess.
I am a girl with hair that is a pale cherry blossom color, almost white, and eyes of jade green. I’m currently six years old. Well, probably, but I’m not completely sure.
Strangely, I have memories of my past life. In my past life, I was a design student attending a vocational school in a different world from this one.
I lived alone, away from my parents. The friends around me were a bit... well, they were a rather intense bunch, but I spent my days enjoying myself.
One day, I was hurrying to school after an all-nighter finishing my graduation project, and I was suddenly caught in a traffic accident and apparently died quite easily.
I first remembered these memories when I was three years old. It was when I was struck on the head by a man, who seemed to be my father, in an alley of a slum.
The sudden fear of being hit made me run away without understanding what was happening. But I was only three years old at the time, and no matter how much I ran, the man chased me persistently while shouting something. It was nothing but terror.
It was late at night, and I didn’t know where I was. Cornered at the end of a dead-end street, I thought I’d be hit again, but just then, the man stumbled and tripped over an empty sake bottle, hitting the back of his head on a stone staircase and died instantly.
I was in a panic as my past life memories resurfaced. And the man, who appeared to be my father, died right in front of me. Who could blame me for running away from that scene?
Did I abandon my father? Frankly, I have no memory of him at all, so I feel nothing, and I didn’t want to think of someone who would persistently beat a child as a father. Even if he had lived, I think I would have fled eventually.
Now, although I managed to escape the scene, the problem was that I had almost no memories prior to the age of three, except for my name. Perhaps I had been struck too much for my brain to handle.
At first, I thought maybe I had taken over someone else’s body, but I am certain that this body is truly my own. I believe the blows caused me to lose my memories up to that point, and instead, the memories from my past life resurfaced. Whether that’s a good or bad thing… I’m still not sure.
However, this name of mine, I’ve heard it somewhere before in my past life, but I still can’t recall where. It seems like there is some confusion with my memories.
Even when I think about my past self, it feels distant, as though it happened to someone else. I didn’t feel sadness or regret about dying in an accident, but rather, all I felt was the overwhelming uncertainty of what to do from now on.
After all, I didn’t know anything, and this wasn’t even Earth. When I looked up at the night sky and saw two moons floating above, my heart sank at the realization of that fact.
In any case, at the age of three, I was forced to live on my own.
If the old woman who was an herbalist hadn’t picked me up, I would have definitely died.
Normally, you wouldn’t follow a stranger, but I was that desperate.
A child from the slum with no guardian couldn’t possibly survive on their own. Without someone to care for me, death was all but inevitable.
In the end, I now think that decision was the right one.
The old woman was a wandering herbalist, traveling from one slum to another, selling medicine.
She didn’t speak much, but she seemed to be skilled at her craft, as everyone in the slums where she visited would buy her potions.
This world had magic, and she used it to mix potions, making her a potion master.
She wasn’t a top-tier alchemist, but I think she was fairly skilled. If she had befriended some nobles or merchants, she could have made more money, but the old woman lived in hiding for some reason, avoiding attention. I didn’t know why, but there had to be a reason.
Even at my young age, I helped her with gathering ingredients and mixing potions, and I grew up under her care. …Though "grew up" is a bit of an exaggeration. The nutrition was barely enough, and I was skinny and small for my age.
Still, it was better than not eating at all. Even the low-quality potions could be sold for some money, so we managed to get by. In some of the other slums, many children had died. I was lucky.
"I thought so, but..."
I stood alone in the empty shack.
Just a few days ago, the old herbalist who had taken care of me passed away.
In the morning, when she didn’t wake up no matter how long I waited, I went to check her bed and found that she had already grown cold. She hadn’t seemed to suffer, and her face was peaceful in death.
Though we didn’t have much conversation, she never abandoned me and raised me for three years, so her death brought me to tears. I had wanted to repay her in some way...
However, while I was grieving, a man claiming to be her son barged in rudely and took everything in the house that could be of any value.
He took all the medicines she had prepared, the catalyst materials, and even the mixing tools.
This house was one she had built new so that we could live together. Well, I suppose you could call it a house, but it was more of a shabby shack. I was furious that her son was rummaging through it.
But I wasn’t her daughter, nor was I an adopted child. I was, essentially, a housemate or a freeloader. I couldn’t stop her son, who was wielding his legal rights. The other residents around us also frowned, but since it wasn’t illegal for a child to inherit their parent’s belongings, they simply watched in silence.
It seemed like he didn’t intend to take even the shack itself, as he loaded up a shabby cart with his spoils and disappeared in front of me. Without even taking his mother’s body, which was in the coffin. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to call himself a son.
I had never heard anything about him from the old woman. They were probably estranged. I could understand that given the kind of person he seemed to be.
This town was the old woman’s hometown, and one of her acquaintances, who had come to check on her, told me how worthless that son was. I should’ve at least slapped him once.
The magic potions he took were difficult to manage. I don’t think that man, with no knowledge, would be able to make them last even two days. The potions would probably rot and turn murky, selling for barely a penny. Serves him right.
"What should I do now...?"
I peeled off a part of the floor where the evening sun was shining and took out a small pouch I had hidden. It was my secret savings. Over the three years, I had sold the potions I made beside the old woman and saved up a little bit of money. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get by for a few days.
But then, what should I do after that? The people in the slums can barely survive themselves, so they wouldn’t be able to take care of me. I don’t have any close acquaintances...
That means I’ll have to make money on my own. The old woman believed in me, but I wonder if my potions will sell without any connections.
Ah! Wait, he took all the materials and mixing tools, didn’t he?! I can’t make any proper potions without those! I’m stuck, aren’t I?
Just as I was pondering, I noticed some commotion outside. What’s going on? Did that idiot son come back?
As I tilted my head in confusion, the door suddenly burst open with a loud bang, and a knight with red hair rushed in.
What’s going on?! Who is this person barging in like this?!
"Excuse me! I heard there is a girl named Sakura here, so I came looking for her! Oh!"
"...I-I’m Sakura, but... what’s going on...?"
The knight, his eyes sparkling as he looked at me, suddenly showed a joyful expression, but I was completely taken aback. What’s going on?! I haven’t even resorted to stealing or anything yet?!
"Excuse me!"
"Ahh!?"
The red-haired knight, about twenty years old, barged into the room and suddenly grabbed my right arm, pulling up the sleeve of my worn clothes.
On my upper arm, there was a bruise that looked like cherry blossoms. I think this is the reason I was named Sakauraile.
It seems that "Sakura" is the same here in this world, and "riel" means "flower," so I think my name might be something like "Sakura Flower" in Japanese.
"Ah...! No doubt about it...! I’ve finally found you, Sakauraile-sama!"
"Uh, excuse me?"
"Sakauraile-sama?" Wait, what does that mean?
The red-haired knight, who was holding my hand tightly and not letting go, started pulling me along.
“Yes?”
“Sakauraile ‘sama’? Wait, what? What does that even mean?”
The red-haired knight, still holding my hand in a vice grip, began to pull me along.
“Come, let us hurry to the Duke’s manor! Quickly, quickly!”
“Wha—wait, hold on…!”
“No need to worry! From now on, we will be by your side, and—oof!”
Before he could finish, the red-haired knight’s skull met the hilt of a sword with a loud thud. Another knight, a woman who had appeared out of nowhere, had struck him from behind.
“You idiot! You’re scaring Sakauraile-sama! Calm down, will you?!”
The red-haired knight fell to the floor, clutching his head and writhing in pain. The sound of the impact was oddly satisfying, though I wouldn’t admit it.
The female knight crouched down in front of me. She had long chestnut hair tied in a ponytail and striking emerald eyes. Judging by her armor, which was identical to the red-haired knight’s, they were likely from the same order.
“Pardon the introduction, Sakauraile-sama. My name is Tanya Celesta, a knight in service to the Duke of Philharmonie. The fool rolling around over there is Ewan Polka, also a knight of Philharmonie.”
“Duke… Philharmonie? Wait, that’s… that’s a noble family, right? One connected to the royal lineage? What are knights from such a prestigious house doing here in the slums?!”
“We’ve been searching for you, my lady. You are the daughter of the Duke of Philharmonie, who was abducted from your parents three years ago.”
“…What?”
Daughter of the Duke? Did I mishear her? Or maybe I’m just losing it?
“I understand this may be difficult to process. However, your hair, your eyes, and the mark on your arm… there is no doubt. You are Sakauraile la Philharmonie, the Duke’s daughter. To have survived these three years… the Duke and Duchess will be overjoyed…”
A single tear rolled down Tanya’s cheek.
I… uh… didn’t know how to respond to that.
The Duke’s daughter? Me? I don’t remember anything from before I was three years old, so for all I know, it could be true.
“I will explain everything in detail in the carriage. Will you come with us?”
For a moment, the thought crossed my mind—what if they were kidnappers? But no kidnapper would go through all this trouble to take an orphan. It seemed too elaborate for that.
I couldn’t be sure if what they were saying was true, but honestly, what did I have to lose by going with them? Things couldn’t get much worse.
This part of the slums was so remote that hardly anyone ever came here. I had no family, no close acquaintances. If I disappeared, no one would notice or care.
That said, there was one thing I needed to do first.
“Um… I want to give the old woman a proper burial.”
“We’ve already heard about her from the locals. She was the one who raised you. Under the Duke’s name, we will ensure she is given a proper funeral.”
Not long after, several men, likely Tanya’s subordinates, arrived quietly to carry the old woman’s coffin to the cemetery at the local church. Tanya handed the priest a hefty donation and entrusted him with the care of the grave.
With that, there was nothing left to tie me here. After saying my final goodbye to the old woman, I climbed into the surprisingly modest carriage alongside Tanya.
As for the red-haired knight, Ewan, he was made to ride in a separate carriage since I was “frightened” of him. Honestly, I wasn’t so much frightened as I was just overwhelmed by him.
“We’re setting off,” Tanya said.
And so, with a mix of anxiety about what lay ahead, I began my journey. The Duke’s carriage rolled into the gathering dusk, carrying me toward an uncertain future.
——.
TFTC
ReplyDelete