A few days had passed since Serelith had made her friend.

The sun cast its golden rays on two cheerful souls in a garden. The garden, now so beautiful, used to be tended by the deceased—Raha Veylor. Kind at heart yet sharp of mind, nothing could break her until she was left behind with Serelith—her flesh and soul—within the closed walls of the estate.

The child had healed from her mother’s departure in the presence of her friend, Shyamu. In the corridor, little footsteps graced the floor. But when her head turned and her eyes followed the jaunty noises, envy grew in her heart. Why wouldn’t it? The new Countess had said that everything in the estate belonged to her—Madam Celene, the little mistress of Veylor Estate.

Her brows furrowed, her lips slightly curved into a pout. She stomped her feet and moved toward the garden. The attending maids followed their little lady.

She finally reached them and stood there. Her eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you get sick when you play with him? Are you like him? He smells very bad too.”

Because this very little mistress, after forming her beliefs, thought not only that the estate belonged to her but that the whole world revolved around her. The maids behind her snickered at Serelith and Shyamu.

Both of them looked at each other, then at Celene. Shyamu’s eyes were fixated on the maids.

“What are you talking about? Does it hurt when I play with my friend? If so—” Her eyes darted away for a second before falling on Celene. “Why don’t you play somewhere else? And my friend doesn’t smell. It’s your nose that’s making a fuss.”

Celene’s face went completely red with rage. The maids covered their mouths, their eyes wide.

“Are you angry?” Shyamu raised his eyebrows.

Celene shook her head. “No, I am not. Mama says a noble lady doesn’t get angry over petty words.”

She looked around, then looked at them. “Mama even says that people who don’t have mothers mingle with lowborns.”

The nanny beside her looked at Serelith, her eyes a little wide. She puffed out her chest and straightened her posture, her eyes sharp and her eyebrows raised.

Serelith nodded once. “Grandpa says,”She paused for a second, then continued anyway. “Status doesn’t matter, but heart and manners do. But you have no manners. How are you a noble lady, then?”

Celene cried loudly, complaining to her nanny, who was also the head maid.

“Nanny, she says I am unladylike.”

The maids tried to console her, but the nanny looked at Serelith with eyes as if she had eaten hundreds of chillies. She was about to unleash her wrath. The shadow of her hand fell across Serelith’s wide-eyed, completely frozen face.

Shyamu stepped forward with his arms spread wide, his eyes sharply fixed on the honourable chilli toast.

Madam Chilli Toast’s eyes flared at him. “You dare to block me—”

“You know Lord Tharald very well, don’t you, Miss Crybaby’s nanny?” He tilted his head slightly, then straightened it.

“You have the guts to threaten me back?”

“Well, I didn’t lie, though.”

She stepped back, her eyes lowered to the ground, her lips curled inward, her throat dry. Celene cried even louder and rushed inside. The maids looked at her in distress and ran after her.

“My lady!”

The head maid looked at them, especially Shyamu.

“Your attitude won’t last long.”

She hurriedly followed the maids.

Serelith’s shoulders slumped, but her eyes remained wide, fixed on the path where the head maid had left.

“Shyamu.”

“What?”

“You really made her angry. What if she makes your wood pulp?”

“But if I stood here like a rock, you would be the one beaten into wood pulp. I can’t let my friend become wood pulp, even if it means I become wood pulp. You said earlier to that crybaby meanie that she should have manners, but here you are saying not even—”

“Thank you, Shyamu.” Serelith grinned.

Shyamu blushed. “It’s really nothing. This is what friends do. Looking out for each other.”

Serelith grabbed his hand. “What are you even waiting for?”

“Aaaaa, wait, Lady Serelith!” Shyamu was forcefully taken away, and both of them continued playing.

Inside the estate, there was complete chaos. Maids were running after Celene, who was crying without deciding where to go. She ran in whichever direction she saw and stumbled into the Count’s study room.

Elric was busy with his work when he heard the child’s sobbing. He looked up. The maids had just reached the room, and the head maid was heavily panting too.

Elric looked outside the door, signaling them to leave.

He got up from his chair and gently spoke, “What happened? Did somebody hurt you?”

She mumbled, “Papa.”

“Hmm?”

She ran towards him, hugging him and sobbing heavily. He picked her up, carried her to his desk, and let her sit on his lap.

She sobbed even more.

“Papa, Papa! That girl said I was unladylike, and she even said bad things about me and my nose.”

She sobbed. “And my mama. They even threatened Nanny.”

Elric wiped her tears and then wiped her runny nose with his handkerchief.

“Don’t worry, my baby. I will make sure that she won’t be rude to you.”

He opened a drawer of his desk and gave her a chocolate.

“Now, is my baby happy?”

Seeing the chocolate, Celene beamed. She kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Papa.”

Celene got down from his lap. She looked at her father’s warm smile, giggled, and merrily left his study.

As soon as she stepped out, Elric’s mood shifted.

He rubbed his temples and called his butler.

His voice was low and deep, yet chillingly cold.

“Tell Serelith to meet me in my study now, without any delay.”

The butler bowed.

“Yes, My Lord.”

In the garden, Lord Tharald came over while the children were playing.

Serelith saw her grandfather. She ran to him, arms wide.

“Grandpa!”

Tharald bent down slightly, opening his arms for her with a smile.

“What is my little flame doing?”

“I’m playing with my friend!”

Tharald glanced at Shyamu, then back at her.

“I suppose my little flame has forgotten me after getting her new friend.”

She shook her head.

“No, no, Grandpa! It’s not like that.”

Tharald chuckled.

“I was teasing my little flame.”

Shyamu looked at the ground, feeling small in front of Tharald.

I am just a stable boy, after all. He won’t like it if I am friends with Lady Serelith. I am a lowb—

His thoughts were interrupted by a pat on his shoulder.

Tharald knelt in front of him.

Shyamu’s breath hitched.

“My Lord?”

“I know what you are thinking, child, but never have I ever approved of someone because of their status. What matters is your actions, your morals, and your heart.”

Tharald’s eyes lowered as he sighed deeply. Then he met the boy’s eyes.

“Do this small favour for this grandfather of your friend.”

Shyamu blinked.

“I am ready for it. Just say the word.”

He nodded slightly.

“Stay by her side and give her your shoulder as a friend.”

“

That’s what friends do, my Lord. They stay by their side in good times and bad.”

“Yes.” Tharald looked at the sky.

“That is what friends do.”

Serelith cheerfully spoke.

“See? I told you earlier that for Grandpa, status doesn’t matter!”

Both of them looked at her.

Tharald looked at Shyamu and Serelith curiously, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What’s that about?”

Just then, Elric’s butler arrived.

The butler bowed low, his face an unreadable mask.

“My lady, My Lord requests your presence in his study. Immediately.”

The warmth from Lord Tharald’s hand on his shoulder seemed to vanish.

Serelith looked at Shyamu, then at her grandfather.

What awaits for them? The wrath of her father? Or worse?