Published: August 10, 2026
I could hear singing.
Even though it was almost dusk and no lights had been lit, the woman sat alone in a chair in the middle of the room. Silently, she kept moving her hands.
Without even turning to look at her visitor, she stared fixedly at her fingertips.
"What are you doing?"
When I asked, she only shifted her gaze toward me.
"Knitting... I'm making socks."
She answered in a low murmur, as if talking to herself, then looked back down at her hands.
She was a tall woman. Even with that awful hunch in her back, you could tell how long her body was. She sat on a small chair with her long legs folded in tightly.
...Come to think of it, she had always kept herself bent like that.
Especially when standing beside her husband, Baron Chadelan, she seemed to shrink her neck in too. As if she were trying to make herself look like some petite little woman. As if the family wouldn't notice—when of course they would. And even if they did, no one would hate her for it.
Without asking for her permission, I stepped into the room on my own. Glancing at the ball of yarn rolled beside her feet, I muttered,
"So you can knit socks too."
"I can make anything. We're poor, after all. We make the things we and our family wear ourselves."
"I've only ever seen you knitting lace with silk thread."
"That's because the Shadelan Family is noble. Making clothes in public is not something proper ladies do. I'm not the daughter of a farmer."
"So that's the rule in your head."
The woman gave no further reaction. Like a phantom, I wasn't even sure whether she was listening, but I kept giving her one-sided "reports."
"Anyway. Apparently they're going to start raising sheep here in Chadelan Territory. There were families keeping them before, but now the number's supposed to increase all at once. Sheep and people both."
She didn't answer. I went on.
"And if that happens, there'll probably be a shortage of workers. There aren't that many people who've actually cared for sheep before. Having experienced help would be useful no matter how much you can get, don't you think?"
"..............."
"And, well, I suddenly remembered something. You were born in a farming family too, weren't you? You probably know how to raise sheep, right?"
The woman stayed silent.
"You should work. Go outside once in a while, interact with people... and get some sunlight. ...Probably."
Her reaction was so faint that even I started trailing off. After a long while, the woman murmured,
"I don't know how to raise them. Sheep... We had them, but because I'm stupid, my father wouldn't let me touch the important livestock."
"...I see. Then... I guess there's nothing you can do about it."
The woman gave a sleepy little nod.
Silence passed between us.
So much time went by that the color of the sky changed, and then the woman finally lifted her head.
"Come to think of it, who are you?"
"...Anastasia Chadelan."
"Lies."
She answered instantly.
"There's no way Anastasia would be here. Because that child is gone already."
I couldn't help but laugh.
...I see. I thought she might have lost it somewhere along the way, but so this was how far it had gone.
Anastasia Chadelan was thought to have died after being swept away by a river—that was what the world believed, and had believed for years. This woman also knew that I was alive. She should have known what happened after that too—how I was working in the royal capital as a metal button maker, how I became Norman Smith's adopted daughter, how I married the Third Prince... She should have known all of it, because I had told her in my letters.
Whenever my circumstances changed, I would send her a letter.
And I waited for a reply—not because I wanted comments on my life. I only wanted to know if you were safe, if you were eating properly... I wanted to ask at least that much.
But no reply had ever come. Not once, until now.
I tied my hair back again. I hid my blond hair beneath my hat, let out a sigh, and turned away.
"Whatever. Maybe living in a dream is happier, after all."
"Yes, that's right. I'm happy."