“No one is going to adopt a child your age, sweetheart.” Noir was nine at the time. She watched as children left the orphanage one by one, she began to wonder when she finds a family to love her. She was such a stocky child and had been the only child in the orphanage that had grown that big due to not being adopted.

The fact that it wasn’t going to happen seemed more apparent as time went on, more so that her caregiver said it in front of parents adopting smaller, younger children.

“Ah! Mr. And Mrs. Chery, what a wonderful surprise! It’s simply pleasant to see you again after your generous donations.” She rolled her ages as she heard him speak, cursing him in her head as she laid in the yard. He was such a mean,  two-faced Director. He’d mock her and other orphans every chance he got after he took over his grandmother's position as a director. He’d been speaking with this couple, the Chery’s for a while. 

They hadn’t come to adopt any child yet, they didn’t look to be interested but made quite a few donations instead.

The couple who were as mysterious as mysterious got—

“We’d like to go take that boy home.”

had their eyes set on her that day.

Their want for a son was enough for a push to fill that need.

By the time the memories went away, Noir woke up to being examined by an older, regal looking doctor. By his slivery ginger hair and his soft, blue eyes, she could only guess this be the royal doctor. One she didn’t know much about since he was only mentioned as ‘The Doctor’ in the novel.

She didn’t know how long she slept for or how long she was treated in her state.

A bit of embarrassment rose up after realizing the doctor and her uncle probably saw the undeniably flat chest, but it subsided as she had other things on her mind.

She stared at the prince who had been curled up beside her. His white-blonde hair that was tied high with a cream ribbon accompanied with the small, stuffed bear he had been holding added an air that made Noir’s heart swell. If she wasn’t seething in pain, hold him while he slept. 

Her body felt sore, but she could breathe properly. The place where the arrow pierced her at, stung her badly. She had made a terrible move being too rash about pulling the arrow out her body, that she seemed to have lost quite a bit of blood—although the poison could have killed her regardless.

After he had examined her, the doctor hums in displeasure.

“He seems to be better, now that he’s conscious. However, the chest was hurt very badly so he needs time to recover. Take that into consideration when training him. When things and people, in particular, are different, malice follows. Although seeing that he pulled the poisonous arrow out by himself, he’s a tough fellow himself, but rash nonetheless.” The doctor notes, grinning at the still weak Noir. Her uncle, the third prince nods before dismissing him, directing his attention to the Prince. His pink, full lips pursed into a neutral expression, Noir has no way of knowing what he’s thinking about.

The Duke stares silently at Noir as she gives him a small, weak smile. This is was arguably close to the pain she felt during the car accident that caused her death. She felt like she was reminded again that she’d die again in this life--although she hoped her ending would mean more than it did before.

“You did what was expected of you.” Noir blinked. She guessed that’s the closest she’d get to a ‘Good Luck’ so she nods quietly in response.