“Say goodbye?!”
The man behind the desk shot up from his chair in alarm the moment he heard those words.
But his body couldn’t handle such a sudden movement. Hunched over, he began to cough violently.
In the process, he knocked over the ink bottle on his desk, spilling black ink across the surface.
The ink slowly seeped outward, soaking into his sleeve.
“Cough, cough… Is this… is this because of my daughter… cough…”
The Duke coughed while struggling to get the question out in his urgency.
“My lord Duke, please don’t strain yourself. Sit down and rest first.”
Aurora gently helped him back into his seat and offered him a glass of water.
Then, as her eyes settled on the ink pooling on the desk, she closed them lightly and began to chant under her breath:
‘Time’s flowing water, halt at this point, reverse—retrace.’
A few seconds later, the ink bottle twitched slightly—then righted itself, as if guided by unseen hands.
The ink across the table and even the stains on the Duke’s sleeve began to reverse their flow, all of it drawing back into the bottle until the desk was clean again.
Aurora slowly opened her eyes. In the depths of her jet-black pupils glimmered a faint gold light.
If one looked closely, they’d see a tiny clock face ticking slowly within her irises… gently swinging… and then gradually fading—until it disappeared completely.
The Duke took a sip of water, drew in a deep breath, and asked:
“Did Leonora upset you again? That girl… I’ll have a word with her!”
He was already trying to rise again when Aurora’s calm voice stopped him in place.
“It’s not because of Leonora, my lord Duke.”
“Then what is it?” he asked, visibly confused.
Was it about her wages? But no—Aurora had never asked for any payment.
Even though she had served the household as a Dwelling Fairy for nearly a century, her only request had been a peaceful place to reside.
After so long, both the Duke and Leonora had long considered her part of the family.
But ever since that incident…
“My lord Duke… I’ve stayed here too long. The curse I carry has begun to affect all of you. Even Meia… I can’t selfishly remain here any longer.”
Dwelling fairies—their origins unknown, their numbers exceedingly rare.
Even the kingdom’s great libraries record only the following:
“Seldom seen. Born of nothingness. Wandering through the world. They settle briefly with a person or in a home. After a century, they leave again to find a new host. If they remain unbound for too long, they vanish from the world altogether.”
As for Aurora, she no longer remembered when she had first come into existence.
By the time she had gained self-awareness, she was already wandering across the world, searching for a happy family with whom she could dwell.
But each stay never lasted long.
The first time, she found a family who lived by tailoring—poor, but warm and full of joy.
She thought she could live there for generations, quietly watching them grow.
But after a hundred years, tragedy struck.
One evening, the family was ambushed by bandits on their way home.
The eldest daughter vanished without a trace, and the parents were brutally murdered.
Even though Aurora, burning with rage, tracked down the bandit camp and wiped it out completely, she couldn’t undo what had already happened.
The daughter was never found.
The second time, reeling from that grief, Aurora wandered aimlessly through the forests, empty and directionless.
Just as she was on the verge of fading away, a traveling witch happened to find her.
“Aren’t you one of those legendary dwelling fairies? Then stay with me,” the witch had said.
“I don’t have a fixed home, I wander constantly—but it’ll be fine as long as I bring you along.”
So they traveled together. But after another century passed, tragedy struck again.
While passing through a small kingdom, the witch’s kindness was exploited by a cult.
They captured Aurora, intending to sacrifice her in a ritual to summon a dark god.
Though the witch arrived in time to save her, she suffered grievous injuries and was no longer able to travel the world.
It was then that Aurora truly understood:
She was cursed.
Every time she spent a century with someone or some family… calamity followed.
Not wanting to bring further harm to the witch, she left quietly—setting out once more to find a new place to stay.
The third time was with the Duke’s family.
Back then, it had been the Duke’s daughter, Meia, who found her.
Aurora lived with them for a long time. Meia had once said to her:
“You’re not cursed, Aurora. Don’t be afraid.”
But just a year ago, Meia passed away from cancer.
On her deathbed, she told Aurora once more:
“This isn’t your curse, Aurora. None of this is your fault. Please… take care of my daughter, Leonora.”
Aurora didn’t want to let Meia down.
So she convinced herself it was okay to stay just a little longer—just until Leonora was grown.
Just a bit more time…
She repeated Meia’s words to herself countless times, trying to believe that she wasn’t cursed.
But reality never agreed.
Leonora had developed severe psychological illness, locking herself in her room, harming herself in secret.
The current Duke—also gravely ill—was growing weaker with each passing day…
Each tragedy was a brutal reminder that Aurora’s curse was consuming this family.
It was time to leave.
And what had once been a fragile hesitation… had now, after her argument with Leonora, solidified into an unshakable resolve:
She would go—before this family was completely destroyed because of her.
“I don’t believe you’re cursed—and neither did Meia. I’m sure Leonora was just speaking out of anger. She’s upset because I neglected her during today’s birthday banquet while discussing business with the other families. Once she calms down, she’ll—”
“Duke…” Aurora interrupted him before he could finish.
“My mind is made up. Please… allow me to leave.”
As she spoke, her hand at her side slowly clenched into a fist. Her slender nails dug deep into her palm.
If she had a choice, she wouldn’t want to leave either.
“This family… has already lost one person. And now, another one is about to go.”
The Duke let out a long, weary sigh, collapsing back into his chair.
It was clear that even saying that much had drained the last of his strength.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, he opened the drawer beneath his desk and pulled out a small golden key.
“This key… was something Meia left for you.”
He placed it gently into Aurora’s hand and continued, “She knew this day might come. She told me to give this to you. It unlocks the drawer beneath her bedside table—there’s something in there she wanted you to have.”
Aurora pressed the key to her chest and gripped it tightly.
“Go on,” the Duke said softly.
“See what Meia left behind for you.”
*****
She stood before the door and slowly opened it—this room, once filled with warmth, now lay silent and still.
But everything inside remained as spotless as ever.
Even though no one lived there anymore, Aurora had continued to clean it every day.
She hadn’t moved a single thing—just like she wanted to freeze time at that very moment when Meia was still alive.
Aurora walked to the bedside table, inserted the key into the drawer’s lock—
Click.
A crisp sound echoed in the quiet room.
The drawer opened to reveal a suitcase.
On top of it sat a folded note.
Aurora picked up the note and began to read.
Dear Aurora,
If you’re reading this, then I suppose you’ve decided to leave.
I won’t stop you—after all, it’s your choice. But remember this: no matter what happens, I will never blame you. You are my family, and I will always love you.
—With love,
Meia
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
Aurora pressed the note to her forehead, repeating those words again and again.
Her tears fell in silence.
She picked up the suitcase from the drawer.
She recognized it immediately—it was the same one she had carried when she was first found.
It had been a gift from the witch who took her in, to help her travel the world more easily.
And now, once again, it was time to wander.
To carry that suitcase… and set off in search of a new place to call home.
Before she left, the Duke said one final thing to her:
“If you can’t find another place to stay… come back. You will always have a home here.”
Aurora’s reply was gentle but resolute:
“If the day comes when the young lady becomes a Holy Knight, then I will gladly offer up the head of this cursed creature—myself—to help forge her glory.”