The Family Tree

They all seem so kind and wonderful. What kind of place will this house be, the one I'll live in with them?

Having finished her first teatime with her new family, Nina decided to start by taking a look around the townhouse she would be living in from now on. The family members had scattered to their own rooms, each claiming to have things to do, so she had to explore alone. Katahari had apologized for leaving her by herself so soon, but Nina thought this would actually make the exploring easier.

The corridor running from the lobby to the parlor displayed antique, ornately decorated muskets and rapiers. There had been a long sword mounted above the fireplace at the Countess's manor where she'd worked until recently, but these were even more beautiful and intricately crafted. The banister of the staircase leading to the upper floor was wrought with spiders and butterflies as well.

Grandmother must have been fond of extravagant things.

Nina climbed step by step in admiration, only to freeze at the landing. There, a magnificent family tree adorned the wall. Having just spent so long studying someone else's lineage, coming face to face with her own for the first time left her oddly self-conscious.

With a fluttering heart, Nina read the family tree slowly from the top. At the very top, the name of her grandmother, Rikita Josephina Bones, was embroidered. Diagonally below it, the name of the grandmother's younger sister, Agatha Chris Bones. Beneath that were the names of Agatha Bones's children—her uncle and aunt, Chayson and Natalisha.

So I had a great-aunt, too.

Nina's grandmother, Rikita Bones, had two children: Ian Flame Bones and Sane Muffle Bones. Below Ian Bones's name sat Exi and Katahari—her sweet cousin brother and cousin sister. And right beside that.

Sane Muffle Bones, Ian Bones's younger sister.

Nina rolled the name around in her mouth over and over, as if determined never to forget it.

Sane Muffle Bones. Sane Bones. Sane.

It was the name of the mother she was learning for the very first time at nineteen years old.

During teatime, the family had spoken of her mother but never so much as mentioned her father, so Nina had suspected as much—and sure enough, her father's name was nowhere on the family tree. It seemed the family knew nothing about him either. She wondered whether it had been her father who placed her in the orphanage after her mother passed, or whether she'd never had a father at all. But her heart wasn't settled enough to ask the family about something like that.

At the very bottom of the family tree, Nina's own name was embroidered.

Nina Bones.

She traced the stitched letters of her own name with a cautious fingertip. The fabric must have been cherished and meticulously cared for, because the family tree was as clean and sturdy as if it had been made just days ago.

When she climbed the rest of the stairs, the corridor beyond carried a distinctive scent—something like dried fruit, or perhaps wet branches. Following that fragrance, Nina opened a certain door, and the moment her eyes met a pair of reddish ones, she stumbled backward. Looking again, she realized it was an enormous portrait of her grandmother, Rikita Bones.

So this was Grandmother's room.

Though a shiver ran through her, Nina couldn't tear her eyes from the portrait. Despite hair gone white with age and a face creased with wrinkles, the eyes burned with vivid, overflowing vitality, and the whole figure carried the air of a wild animal that might bolt in any direction at any moment.

They're the exact same pink eyes as mine, and yet.

Unlike her own eyes, which people so often compared to spring flowers, Rikita Bones's eyes felt like a red moon. A red moon—one ominous enough that you'd never dare make a careless wish upon it. Nina felt crushed by an incomprehensible presence. Suddenly embarrassed, she touched her cheek and stepped into the room.

Goodness, what a rude thing to think about my own grandmother.

The family had told her to wander freely, but she'd heard the funeral had been only recently, so she resolved to be careful. She decided to look only at what was visible, without opening cabinets or drawers.

The room Nina found herself in was a study connected to the bedroom, one wall of which was lined with decorative daggers of every variety.

Did she love blades?

The ornamentation was so extravagantly elaborate that they couldn't possibly have been used in earnest, yet the mere presence of the blades gave off a dangerous air. The abstract paintings hanging in a row beside them only deepened that atmosphere.

So all of this—the swords, the framed paintings—becomes mine now.

Nina suddenly recalled her grandmother's will, as delivered by the gentleman who had visited the Countess's manor.

To think she left her entire inheritance to me, her only direct granddaughter. The rest of the family must feel so hurt.

She had seen countless guests while working at the manor and overheard plenty of what they said about inheriting their ancestors' estates. By any measure, Grandmother's will was the kind of thing that would leave the family keeping this townhouse feeling slighted.

Come to think of it, nobody really acted like they were in mourning until I brought Grandmother up.

Nina let out a deep sigh and pressed a hand to her aching chest.

And yet they welcomed me so warmly. They're truly good people. I have to be good to them, too.

With that resolve, she headed next to a room one floor up.

"Oh, wow."

The moment Nina opened the door and saw the cozy yet immaculate room spread out before her, she breathed a sigh of wonder.

So this is my room.

It was the room her uncle Chayson had picked out for her—originally, he said, the room her mother had used as a girl. The smell of soft, clean bedding and polished wooden furniture set her heart at ease. Not an orphanage dormitory where bodies were packed side by side, not a four-person maid's quarters—but a room entirely her own.

Unable to suppress the laughter that kept bubbling up, Nina looked around the room. No—she wanted to, but there wasn't much in it to look at.

They must have cleared it out neatly for me to use.

It would be fun filling the room with her own belongings, she thought, though she was a little disappointed to find no trace of her mother. There wasn't a single framed photograph of her anywhere.

I hope they didn't throw away the things that used to be here. I'll have to ask about that later, too.

Turning back toward the bed with that thought, Nina jolted in shock.

"Aah!"

A pigeon had appeared from who knew when and was ransacking the luggage bag she'd set down in advance.

"Stop that!"

To defend her bag, Nina hastily whipped out her handkerchief and waved it frantically. But far from being frightened, the pigeon strutted toward her on both feet, step by deliberate step.

"D-don't come any closer!"

Startled, Nina flapped the handkerchief even harder. Completely ignoring the handkerchief flapping wildly in the air, the pigeon thrust one foot straight out toward her.

"Coo-roo. Gugugugu."

"Huh……?"

Looking closely, she saw the pigeon was wearing an identification tag on its ankle. The way it approached her without hesitation, and how remarkably clean it was, marked it as a pampered, well-kept bird—one raised by human hands.

Nina breathed a sigh of relief at the pigeon's now-docile demeanor.

"So your name is Gugu. Oh? A carrier pigeon?"

Then, examining the tag, she tilted her head in puzzlement. "I haven't seen a carrier pigeon in ages. Doesn't everyone use telegrams these days?"

At that, Gugu gave a jerk of its wings, tore the tag reading "Carrier Pigeon" to shreds with its beak—rip, rip—and donned a brand-new tag.

Only then did Nina understand, and she broke into a bright smile.

"Oh, you're a pet pigeon! Nice to meet you, Gugu. I'm Nina."

"Gugu! Gugururu!"

Gugu settled naturally onto Nina's shoulder and cooed sweet nothings at her. Then, seizing the very moment Nina let her guard down, it snatched the handkerchief clean away and flew off toward the balcony.

Oh no! Nina rubbed her stinging head and dashed off after Gugu.

"Gugu! Give me back my handkerchief!"

"Guguu~"

At the pigeon's taunting caw, Nina ran out onto the balcony—then stopped short, flustered. Gugu had flown all the way to the neighboring house's balcony and was perched on its railing. And a certain man was slowly stroking the pigeon.

Silver curls gleaming softly in the sunlight. Mysterious, gold-flecked eyes. A strikingly handsome man with an ambiguous air, impossible to place as either boy or young man. He was watching Nina as though observing her.

"H-hello."

Startled as if scorched by fire, Nina scrambled through a hurried greeting.

"The pigeon flew all the way over there with your handkerchief in its beak, it seems."

"Do you live there?"

The man's voice was a quiet, gentle baritone.

"No, I—"

Waving her hands in confusion, Nina suddenly collected herself and corrected herself. "Yes. I live here. Starting today."

"Ah. You're someone I haven't seen before, so I wondered if a thief had broken in."

The man said it dryly as he retrieved the handkerchief from Gugu's beak. "It's not a house that gets many guests, you see. My apologies."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. I'm Nina Bones."

As Nina approached the balcony railing to greet him, the man returned a light bow.

"A pleasure, Nina. I'm Joel Smiler—the sickly young master next door."