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Crista, who had reincarnated as a young Valeta, was terrified of what was to come. She knew life would be tough, she had read the novel. Count Delight was abusive, the maids had no respect for her, and most of the time they ignored her altogether. Her heart had nearly stopped the day the Count introduced her to her very own slave. Reinhardt. A boy, not much older than her, whose shirt was stained with blood. Despite her fear, Crista couldn’t look away. He was covered in wounds. To her, he was just a child. Just like she was.
That night, she ordered her maids to bring a doctor to tend to him. “But Miss, it is a waste to call a doctor for a mere slave,” one maid said.
“Well, this slave is now my slave. And I am the Count’s daughter,” Crista shot back. “Disrespecting me is the same as disrespecting the Count. Should I tell him, then?”
The maid paled. “Very well, Miss,” she said quickly and scurried off. After the doctor had left, Crista went to check on Reinhardt, and sighed. They had done a half-hearted job treating his wounds.
Reinhardt lay still, barely able to believe what he was hearing. The young mistress, was speaking up for him. Her words echoed in his ears, a surprising spark of defiance in a world where he had only known neglect. “A mere slave.” Her voice was steady, unwavering. She had no reason to care, yet she did. He felt the weight of her gaze on him, soft yet firm, and a strange warmth spread through his chest. No one had ever bothered to stand up for him, let alone demand care.
“This poor kid,” she muttered, stepping closer to the bed where he lay. With her tiny 9-year-old hands, she gently placed fresh bandages on his palm and elbow, trying to help in any way she could. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, but his breathing was shallow. She hesitated, then whispered to him, her voice trembling,
“As grand as this manor is... I don’t think you’ll be happy here. My father is bad. This manor is bad. But don’t worry. I think, no, I hope that in all this ‘bad,’ the ‘happy’ will come soon.” She lingered for a moment, then left quietly, not knowing Reinhardt had been half-awake, and heard every word.
His eyes remained closed, but his heart ached. No one had ever said something like that to him before. He didn’t know why, but something in his heart stirred, uncertain but yearning for more. What had he done to deserve this? It was a question that lingered long after the doctor left. And still, all he could think of was Crista.
A year later.
Crista sighed. She had failed to get Reinhardt removed from the manor. The other maids still bullied him, ignoring her warnings. She felt powerless. If only she had more authority, they wouldn’t dare to touch what was hers.
That day, she left for the palace for her usual tea time with the crown prince. She dreaded it, but today was different. Today was the day Reinhardt first came to the manor. His birthday, in her heart. She planned to bring him something from the palace. Something special. He was the only one who truly cared for her, even after all the times she’d tried to push him away.
When she arrived, the prince greeted her with his usual lovestruck smile. The palace maids served her a selection of elegant desserts and candies from foreign lands. One particular candy sparkled like a jewel, it was Turkish candy, translucent and beautiful. She took a bite and her eyes widened with delight.
“This candy is delicious,” she said, then hesitated. “Is it rude of me if I ask to bring some home? I’m sorry if I’m being too bold...”
The crown prince looked delighted. “This is the first time you’ve ever asked me for something. Of course! You can have as much as you want.”
Crista smiled, trying to keep her tone light. “Just a small bag is enough. I don’t want my father to know… he might get angry. I trust you won’t tell him?”
The prince nodded. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
That night, Crista returned home and Reinhardt greeted her in her room with a smile. She looked around, ensuring they were alone, before pulling out a small pouch from her pocket. Reinhardt tilted his head curiously.
“Happy birthday,” she said, offering him the pouch. “I... I don’t know your real birthday, but this is the day you came into the manor. So, today is your birthday.”
Reinhardt blinked, eyes wide. “For me?”
Reinhardt stood in silence as he stared at the small bag Crista had handed him, his heart beating strangely in his chest. It was a gift, a simple gesture, yet it was more than he had ever received. No one had ever given him something with such thoughtfulness before.
“There are candies inside. From a foreign land. They’re called Turkish candy.” Crista’s eyes lit up. “They sparkle like jewels... and they’re sweet. Perfect for a birthday-”
She stopped herself, reigning in her excitement. Her tone turned soft and steady again.
“I hope you’ll like them. And that they’ll make you happy. But don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s our secret.”
Reinhardt accepted the pouch like it was the most precious thing in the world. He opened it slowly, eyes shining as he peered inside.
“They’re beautiful,” he whispered.
And in that moment, he remembered the voice from a year ago, “in all this bad, the happy will come soon.”
He popped a candy into his mouth and his eyes softened. They sparkled, just like she said. And they tasted like kindness. It was warmth, a glimmer of happiness that he had longed for in the dark corners of his life. He knew, even without words, that Crista cared for him in a way no one else ever had. And that thought... that thought made him feel a sense of belonging, something he never thought he'd experience in this cruel world.
“I’ll treasure this,” he said quietly, voice a little shaky. “Thank you, Master.”
Crista gave him a small nod and turned away, her heart thumping in her chest.