The Protagonist’s Party is Too Diligent – 121
EP.121 Memory (7)
Memories aren’t necessarily defined by how long they last or how old they are. Instead, it seems they’re more about the intensity—whether positive or negative—and how much they’ve shaped one’s life. The stronger their impact, the harder they are to forget.
To these children, I must occupy such a position in their lives.
As the conversation dragged on, staying in the lobby felt a bit awkward, so we all moved to the building’s dining hall. There, other children and adults were scattered around, eating their meals. The space was large enough that even as we occupied a corner, there was no need to displace anyone else.
A few curious glances were cast in our direction, but no one seemed inclined to interfere. Judging by their restraint, they must have been well-raised and properly educated.
When a few people looked like they were about to leave, Claire subtly gestured for them to stay put. After exchanging polite nods, we settled into a corner of the dining hall.
The children continued sharing their stories for a while. It was as if they had been waiting for an opportunity to speak with me, recounting how their lives had been since coming here.
They started from the beginning—how they had been educated at the orphanage, selected as they grew older to work for House Grace… Of course, not one of them, according to their account, ever considered leaving. Having spent their childhood in such a place, where they wouldn’t freeze to death, starve, or be beaten, it was likely not an option they could easily give up.
As their stories flowed, their eyes gradually filled with a mix of hope and expectation as they looked at me. Perhaps they wanted to hear my story in return.
But…
Well.
I couldn’t bring myself to share anything just yet. So instead, I kept my mouth shut and quietly listened to their stories.
Was it because my silence seemed heavy to them? Or had their pool of stories run dry after so much sharing?
As time passed, their voices gradually quieted. By the time the dining hall was empty of other diners, we had nothing left to say to one another.
“……”
“……”
An awkward silence settled between us.
Alice, for some reason, appeared to be gauging my reaction, while Claire seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
But even then, I didn’t know what to say.
Could I truly be honest with the children who had shared their life stories with such sincerity?
Could I tell them that, during my escape, I hadn’t been trying to save them?
Could I admit that when I shared my food with them, it had been out of cheap pity for those who likely wouldn’t survive much longer?
Could I bring myself to reveal such truths to these children who now saw me as their savior?
……
Of course, I couldn’t say that. I wasn’t that honest or brave of a person.
After the brief silence, someone finally spoke up.
“Um…”
It was Daniel.
The only noises in the dining hall were the occasional rustling sounds from the children shifting in their seats, soft breathing, and the faint clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen. Even though Daniel had only muttered a single word, his voice seemed loud in the stillness—louder than it would have seemed under normal circumstances.
As all eyes suddenly turned toward him, Daniel looked flustered, his face quickly turning red.
It appeared he was still lacking in his training as a butler. A professional in his position shouldn’t allow their expression to be so easily read.
But then again, Daniel was still young. The current head butler didn’t seem likely to retire anytime soon, so Daniel would have plenty of time to learn—assuming, of course, that war didn’t break out and he wasn’t conscripted as cannon fodder.
“May I ask you something?”
Daniel soon regained his courage and asked his question. Though his face was still slightly red and his gaze trembled, his curiosity seemed to outweigh his nervousness.
The other children shifted their attention from Daniel to me, their faces filled with anticipation. Even though they hadn’t heard the question yet, their expressions clearly showed they were eager to hear my response.
“Yes, go ahead,” I said.
If the question was too sensitive, I might not be able to answer, but leaving without saying anything would make meeting these children again feel meaningless. If I could answer, I wanted to.
“Um… about your hair,” Daniel began. He swallowed hard before continuing. “Has it always been this short?”
I felt the children’s gazes fix on me.
In their memories, I must have had long hair. At the orphanage, there hadn’t been any tools to cut hair, and perhaps the old woman in charge had thought longer hair looked better. After all, once the children were sold, their new owners could style their hair however they wished.
“It was long when I was younger,” I replied.
Not long after moving to the palace, I had cut it short.
“May I ask why you cut it?”
“It was inconvenient.”
Running around with long hair was a hassle. I’d considered tying it into a ponytail but found the routine of washing and styling it every morning unbearably tedious. Plus, long hair took forever to dry.
“I’m very active, so short hair is more practical,” I added.
“Oh…”
Daniel’s face grew even redder, perhaps because he had been expecting a more dramatic or sentimental reason. My straightforward answer seemed to catch him off guard.
Feeling self-conscious, I raised a hand to touch my hair. It felt smooth and soft—so much so that it almost didn’t feel like it was mine.
“Do you think longer hair would suit me better?” I asked Daniel.
At my question, Daniel’s already-red face turned an even deeper shade of crimson. He lowered his head so abruptly that it was almost a bow.
“You… you look great now too…”
He muttered, his voice trailing off into an unintelligible mumble.
Well, I’d take that as a compliment. It wasn’t as if there were many people who’d dare tell a princess, “That hairstyle doesn’t suit you—change it.”
*
As written in the letter, the Grace Estate was a peaceful and wonderful place. It was almost miraculous that such a tranquil area could exist so close to the bustling heart of the city. Though faint noises from afar occasionally reached the estate, it felt as if an invisible barrier muted them, making the clamor of the humid midsummer air seem like it belonged to another world.
Perhaps I had simply allowed myself to relax upon learning that the children I remembered were still here, living as they always had.
“Hair.”
While I sat in the shaded area overlooking the green lawn, staring blankly at the verdant hue, Alice spoke suddenly.
I turned my gaze toward her, but Alice continued to look straight ahead as she quietly said, “Have you thought about growing it out?”
“…I’m not sure,” I replied.
“I think long hair would suit you, too.”
Claire chimed in from my other side.
“Someday, it might not be a bad idea to grow it out,” I said, redirecting my gaze forward.
In the distance, several red brick buildings stood at the edge of the expansive view. Beyond the Grace Estate, the city still churned like a well-oiled machine, a continuous rhythm of industry.
“But not right now.”
Yes, not now. There was still too much I needed to do before I could consider growing my hair out. At the very least, I needed to ensure the safety of the children sitting beside me—along with every character I had grown to care for. I needed to confirm that all the people I cherished would survive past the conclusion of the main story.
And I also had to verify that the children I had impulsively saved here would live safely and peacefully. Only once I was certain that I wouldn’t need to turn back time again could I consider growing my hair. After all, I didn’t want to go through the hassle of growing it out, only to reset everything and start over.
“When you do grow your hair, I’ll teach you how to tie it up beautifully.”
Claire offered. She had practically become an expert at hairstyling, having tied her hair into a ponytail every day.
“What are you talking about? Sylvia looks better with her hair down,” Alice countered. “She has such beautiful hair—there’s no need to damage it by tying it up.”
“But Sylvia moves around a lot—”
“All the more reason for her to have a hairstyle befitting a princess—”
And so the two began arguing, with me caught in the middle.
…They really did seem like sisters, arguing over the smallest things.
I wondered if a day would come when we’d look back on this moment and think, ‘Those were the days.’
…Well, I’d just have to try to make sure that day comes.