A thin layer of snow still covered the streets of Kronfeld as I made my way home, carrying a shopping bag filled with ingredients Mom had asked for to make my birthday cake. The cold air bit into my skin, my breath turning into white puffs in the air—as if the coat I wore was completely useless.
I loosened my grip on the bag for a moment, making sure everything inside was still intact. Flour, sugar, eggs, butter—everything was there. I really didn't want a repeat of what happened a few months ago, when I carelessly dropped an entire bag of eggs in the middle of the street. Wilhelm, of course, had laughed at me for weeks.
My thoughts drifted back to the market earlier. The tense expressions on the soldiers' faces still lingered in my mind. But… for now, I decided to ignore it.
Wilhelm had come with me to buy the cake ingredients, but as soon as we were done, he left for the station. Said he wanted to watch the locomotives and go stamp hunting. That was just how he was—completely obsessed with trains and his stamp collection. To most people, a train station was just a place to pass through, but to him, it was paradise.
Still…
I glanced down at the small object in my hand—a simple bracelet made of dark green leather. The strap felt a little rough to the touch, but it seemed sturdy enough to last a long time. In the center, there was a small silver plate, slightly tarnished, as if it had been stored away for years before finally being given to me.
It was a gift from Wilhelm. From the way it was made, it looked handmade, though I had no idea when or how he'd learned to make something like this.
What intrigued me more was the tiny engraving on the plate. The letters were a little uneven, almost crude, like they had been carved by an unsteady hand.
"E."
I figured it was meant for my name, Erina. But when I asked him about it, he immediately denied it.
"It's just a coincidence! It's not like I carved your name on it or anything. That… that letter just happened to be there!"
Strangely, Wilhelm hadn't waited for my birthday—which was only three days away—to give me this bracelet. Apparently, he had another reason.
The day after tomorrow, he would be leaving—leaving Kronfeld with his mother to live at his grandfather's house in the south, near the Viperian Empire's border.
Elke, his mom, had finally realized that raising her son alone in a crowded city wasn't easy. So, Wilhelm's grandfather had offered them a place on his farm, where they could help with the family's land.
I tightened my grip on the bracelet.
So… this was a goodbye.
It suck. Wilhelm was my only friend—we had grown up together—but his departure was inevitable. There was nothing I could do except sigh and accept the fact that the world kept moving forward, whether I wanted it to or not.
Before I knew it, my steps had taken me right to my front door.
Just as I stepped inside, a loud voice from the kitchen immediately caught my attention—a voice filled with anger.
I frowned. That was Mom.
Driven by curiosity, I slowly made my way toward the source of the commotion. From where I stood, I could see Mom and Dad locked in a heated argument.
I held my breath, listening.
"I DON'T CARE! BUT WHAT ABOUT ERINA!?"
"Inge, please, calm down…"
Dad—Paul—was still wearing his full Royal Army uniform, complete with his soldier's cap and a bag slung over his back. He had just gotten home, that much was obvious. But what wasn't obvious was how he had already gotten dragged into an argument this intense.
"You're a smart woman, Inge," Dad said, his voice steady. "So please understand. What I'm doing right now is for the country."
His tone was calm, but that only seemed to fuel Mom's anger.
I could see the way her jaw tightened, how her teeth clenched before she shot back, her voice rising even more.
"THE COUNTRY! THE COUNTRY! THE COUNTRY! WHEN DO WE COME FIRST—ME AND ERINA!?"
Dad fell silent. His expression suddenly looked… exhausted.
A long time ago, maybe, a younger version of him would have snapped at her words. He used to be fanatical about the Kingdom, and he would've defended it to the grave. But now? After years in the military, it seemed like he had started seeing the world differently.
And yet, one thing had never changed—his sense of duty.
"You come home once a year, and even then, only for three days!" Mom's voice shook—not just with anger, but with pain. "And now, you just got here… and you're already saying you have to leave tomorrow!? Are you insane!?"
"Inge, you know I can't disobey ord—"
CRACK.
Shit. My shopping bag just ripped at the worst possible time.
The ingredients spilled onto the floor, flour dusting my shoes, and a few eggs rolling away.
Both Mom and Dad's heads snapped toward me.
I forced a smile—the most awkward one I could manage—and scratched the back of my head.
"Well… guess I should've asked that muscle-brained vendor for a better bag, huh? Haha…"
Silence filled the room.
I could feel Mom's sharp gaze, could see Dad taking a long, deep breath.
I had just walked straight into a storm.
Mom, who had been standing rigid with barely-contained rage, slowly began to compose herself—or at least, that's what I thought. Without a word, she stepped forward and started picking up the fallen ingredients.
But when she spoke, I immediately realized her anger was far from gone.
"What perfect timing, Paul," her voice was sharp, piercing. "You can tell Erina yourself. Looks like our non-eavesdropping daughter doesn't know what's going on yet. Isn't that right, Erina?"
My whole body tensed.
Damn.
I take back what I said—she's definitely not calm yet.
Even so, Dad seems to choose to follow Mom's lead. He steps toward me, his expression briefly clouded with regret before softening into a warm smile. Kneeling in front of me, he reaches out and gently ruffles my black hair—a familiar habit, one he's always done every time he comes home.
"I'm home, Erina… I'm sorry," he says in a low voice. "But I have to leave again tomorrow. There are… reasons I can't explain right now."
I nod slowly.
"...I see."
"Don't worry," he says, trying to sound cheerful. "We're still celebrating your birthday tonight. I wouldn't miss it."
"...Oh. Alright."
Honestly, the birthday party itself isn't what's on my mind. What bothers me more is how ridiculously short his leave has been cut. This barely counts as a break—it's more like a brief permission slip before being sent straight back to the battlefield. Something must be going on, but I know Dad won't tell me.
From the corner of the room, Mom, who's been silently listening to our conversation, crosses her arms, her expression full of displeasure.
"Erina, you're still a child, so act like one," she says seriously. "I'd be thrilled if you threw a tantrum right now. Maybe even rolled around on the floor."
I stare at her, stunned.
"...What?"
She can't be serious. There's no way I'd do something that humiliating. I glance at Dad, hoping for some kind of backup, but he only gives me an awkward smile that says, Don't look at me, I don't get it either.
"...Wait, do I really have to do that?" I ask, still in disbelief.
"Of course."
"N—no way! That's… that's way too embarrassing!"
Even just imagining it makes my skin crawl.
Mom lets out a deep sigh, rubbing her temples like she's dealing with two stubborn kids instead of a husband and daughter.
"Ugh, you two are exactly the same," she grumbles. "Fine, in that case, as punishment, both of you have to help me bake the cake for tonight."
Dad and I exchange glances before finally smiling a little.
"Yes, Commander," we answer in unison, saluting her.
Mom just clicks her tongue, but I catch the slight curve of her lips.
And with that, the three of us start working together in the kitchen, trying to make the best birthday cake ever—or at the very least, one that doesn't completely destroy the kitchen.
Through the kitchen window, I watch the snow fall slower than usual, swirling gently before settling on the ground. For some reason, it feels like a bad omen.
…But maybe I'm just overthinking it.