Today, a new family member was coming.
The day she first met her little brother. Ofilienne was six years old.
The manor's reception room was immaculately arranged.
The floor gleamed, and the light filtering through the windows reflected off the carpet's patterns, sharp enough to sting the eyes.
The servants had retreated to the walls.
Ofilienne stood at the center of it all. Her hands were clasped behind her back — the noble posture adults had always drilled into her.
The door opened, and a child walked in.
He had the same ashen hair and ashen eyes as her. She didn't like that.
Four years old, they'd said.
He was small for his age, shoulders drawn inward. His hands hung empty at his sides, swaying as though groping at the air.
His shoes were new, but they didn't fit right — his steps were awkward.
The Family Head spoke.
"Matyos. From this day forward, you are one of us."
In that moment, Ofilienne understood.
This child had been chosen.
Matyos looked around the room, and then he saw her.
Their eyes met, briefly.
His held expectation. Cautious, but unmistakable. The expectation that they might become family.
Ofilienne looked away.
She had no desire to hold that gaze for long.
After that day, Matyos was naturally placed at the center of everything.
The same table, the same lessons, the same name.
Only the weight attached to the name was different.
Every time the adults called for Matyos, they put in just a little more care.
"He's the one who will carry the family forward, after all."
Those words always came with a smile. Tossed out like a joke.
Ofilienne did not smile.
She had no reason to.
"Sisterrr."
Matyos called her Sister.
The title grated on her in a way she couldn't quite explain.
"Don't call me that."
"Oh, um…"
Matyos hesitated.
"…Then what should I call you…?"
"Call me by my name."
"Ofil… ienne."
He mangled the pronunciation.
That mangling scraped at her nerves. Honestly, everything about the boy grated on her.
Around age seven, Ofilienne grew busier still.
There was much to learn, and much to be seen learning.
Matyos was always one step behind.
He made no effort to push ahead.
He rarely asked questions, and he never competed for the right answer.
When adults ruffled his hair with a smile, he simply accepted it.
That attitude unsettled her more than anything.
Not competing meant he already knew his place. Cunning little thing.
*
Matyos was smaller than her.
Five years old. An age where he didn't so much understand words as simply follow them.
Ofilienne kept her distance deliberately, but Matyos kept closing it.
The sound of small feet shuffling and stopping near her side of the room. The sound of him hovering outside her door.
When she was reading, she'd look up and find him already seated beside her.
"Sister."
She didn't answer. She turned the page.
The child's hand crept onto the book. Not toward the pictures or the words — he was fiddling with the corner of the page, his expression entirely absorbed in the sensation at his fingertips.
Ofilienne coldly pushed his hand away.
The child drooped, head falling.
That pitiful sight nagged at her.
"…Fine."
"Hm?"
"Do whatever you want."
"Whatever… I want?"
"Oh, just—!"
Ofilienne took the small hand she'd pushed away and guided it back to the corner of the page.
"Like this."
"Oh, okay! I'll stay by your side, Sister!"
"Do as you like."
Matyos beamed.
That smile stayed with her longer than she expected.
*
One late night.
The manor's corridors were different from the daytime. With the lights dimmed, shadows stretched long, and the decorations on the walls seemed larger than themselves.
Ofilienne lay in bed.
Her eyes were closed, but sleep wouldn't come. Outside, the wind scraped against the window.
Knock. Knock.
Very faint.
Too hesitant to call it a proper knock.
A moment later, again.
Knock.
Ofilienne opened her eyes.
She didn't answer.
From beyond the door came the sound of feet shifting, then stopping.
A long silence followed.
"…Sister."
Right outside the door.
The voice was low. Far smaller than the voice she heard during the day.
"What."
She spoke without getting up from the bed.
At some point, she had permitted him the title of Sister.
Too much trouble to bother changing it now, so she'd left it.
The door opened a crack.
Matyos poked only his head through. His hair was disheveled, and one hand clutched the end of a blanket.
"…I'm scared."
"So?"
"Can I sleep with you…?"
"Go to your room."
Ofilienne said it looking at those grey eyes, clear even in the dark. Eyes full of fear.
Matyos didn't move from where he stood.
He rested his hand on the doorframe and bowed his head.
"I turned off the light and… there are sounds."
"It's just the wind."
"…Even so."
He said that, and said nothing more.
His fingers fidgeted, and instead he took one step inside.
"I don't want you here. I'm sleeping alone."
She said it again.
This time, more clearly.
Matyos stopped.
He blinked his large eyes. Hugged the blanket tighter with his small hands.
"…Then I'll sleep on the floor."
It didn't sound like a request. It sounded like something already decided.
Ofilienne looked at the hunched child.
His bare feet were touching the cold floor. Whether from the chill or something else, his toes were slightly curled inward.
"Haah… come here."
At her words, Matyos lifted his head. His eyes were faintly glistening with tears.
He looked at her once, as if to confirm, then approached carefully.
When he climbed onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipped slightly.
Ofilienne shifted to the side.
Matyos curled himself up small, like a little animal, and lay down.
After a while, Matyos rolled over slightly.
His back touched hers.
Ofilienne didn't pull away.
Instead, she steadied her breathing. She was wearing a thin silk dress, and Matyos's soft breath reached her through the fabric at her back.
She gave a small, involuntary shiver.
A little later,
the breathing behind her slowed.
Small, even breaths traveled through her back.
Asleep already?
Ofilienne turned over. The child sleeping soundly looked like a small animal.
She reached out a finger and brushed Matyos's eyelashes.
That night, for some reason, sleep came easily.
* * *
Ofilienne stood by the window.
She was fingering the edge of the curtain, looking outside.
It was winter. Snow was falling. The courtyard, the garden wall — all of it lay white, without a single footprint to disturb it.
The door opened.
"Um…"
She sensed hesitation behind her.
"Do you want to have a snowball fight?"
Her hand stilled.
The velvet curtain slipped through her fingers.
"No."
She said it shortly and moved to the other side of the room.
As her footsteps receded, another set followed.
Matyos came after her, one beat behind.
He didn't run. He didn't strain to close the distance. He simply walked in the same direction.
"…I hate the cold. If you want to play, go play by yourself."
"…Mm."
That voice sank quickly, like snow.
Ofilienne stopped.
She had a vague feeling she'd been unnecessarily harsh.
"…To add to that — it's not that I dislike you. I dislike the cold."
"Then let's dress warmly and do it."
There was no calculation in those words.
Just a face that had said exactly what came to mind.
"That's a bother."
She cut it off again.
"…Mm, okay."
"What exactly do you think you understand?"
"I'll play alone."
For a moment, she looked at him.
Matyos already wore the face of someone who had accepted the conclusion.
"…Do as you like."
A little while later, movement appeared outside the window.
Matyos had really gone out into the snow alone.
He rolled snow into a clumsy snowman,
then fell backward and swept his arms and legs through the white.
A lopsided snow angel was left on the white field.
"…"
Ofilienne watched him from above, chin resting on her arm, then reached for her coat.
When she opened the door, cold air rushed in all at once.
Her breath caught for a moment.
Matyos hadn't noticed her yet; he was still rolling snow.
The snowball wouldn't pack the way he wanted, so he kept rolling it this way and that.
"Matyos."
He looked up.
Those pretty eyes went slightly wide.
"Hm?"
Before he could finish the word, a small snowball grazed the side of his face.
It burst just beneath his chin.
A beat of silence.
"……!"
Matyos laughed, one beat late.
"Sister!"
This time he scooped up snow.
His throw went wide, and the snowball hit her coat and slid down.
"You—"
Ofilienne pulled the corner of her mouth up. She scooped up more snow.
Her fingertips went cold almost immediately.
This time she aimed properly.
The snow burst on Matyos's shoulder.
"Whoa!"
He stepped back.
He didn't fall. Instead, he couldn't hold back his laughter.
They moved back and forth across the snow, throwing.
It didn't matter who got hit more.
By the time their breath had grown a little ragged,
Matyos plopped down in the snow.
"I lost…"
Ofilienne stood before him. She picked up one more handful of snow, then didn't throw it.
A moment later, she sat down in the snow beside him. The cold seeped through her coat.
Matyos looked up at her.
His cheeks were flushed red.
"That was fun. Was it fun for you too, Sister?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she turned her head and let a faint smile settle on her lips.
Time passed.
She hadn't known it then, but Matyos had become the most precious thing she had.
And then, after his sixteenth birthday, Matyos changed.