Chapter Seven: The Fabricated Impression
Evelia Kroyer.
If someone were to ask her hometown folks about her, they would certainly say that Evelia is a sensible, ambitious, virtuous, and kind girl.
However, in reality, Evelia Kroyer does not exist at all.
She is not an imposter taking someone else’s identity, but rather, a person completely invented from thin air.
In the mouths of the townspeople, she is a kind girl whose parents’ tombstones are under a large tree on the hill next door. She enjoys making flower crowns for children and sitting alone on the steps at her doorway to watch the sunset.
Of course, none of this exists; it is merely a persona created for Evelia, like a character in a novel. All of these events are simply a “story.”
Furthermore, this story is easy to fabricate; one just needs to write up a character of an ordinary, good girl.
Once a suitable location is chosen, a few chatty women from the neighborhood can be found and asked:
“I’m looking for a person; do you remember the girl with pink hair who used to live here? Her name is Evelia Kroyer.”
“Huh? Was there such a girl here?”
Naturally, the women express confusion since such a girl indeed does not exist.
“I think there was, right? I remember a little girl with pink hair; you even praised her hair color back then.”
The Second Prince has eyes and ears everywhere, and perhaps some vendor in this small town is a subordinate of the prince. At this moment, their role comes into play: all that is needed is for someone well-known in town to appear and confirm that “Evelia” exists, and the story begins to be written.
“Oh? Is that so? I do quite like pink…”
The woman hesitates, requiring further encouragement.
“Of course, that girl was quite pretty. I remember in the summer, she helped the old man at the corner with his laundry.”
“Huh? Ah—there was indeed such a thing; what was that girl’s name again—”
“Evelia, Evelia Kroyer.”
“Ah yes, Evelia, that name is lovely, and she was beautiful too.”
“I haven’t seen her for a long time; did she leave?”
“She probably moved away; after all, young people prefer to go to big cities to develop, and here we old folks remain.”
“Not old yet, not old yet.”
This nonexistent person, through the chatter of the women, gradually began to transform into a kind-hearted girl. Coupled with some guidance from pre-arranged individuals nearby, “Evelia Kroyer” was born at that moment.
Moreover, other details were also dealt with; various documents and even the tombstone of Evelia’s “parents” were placed under that ordinary tree on the hill of the town. Thus, if someone passed by and took a look, they would have an epiphany—”Oh, isn’t this the grave of Evelia’s parents? It turns out this girl really lived here.”
Everything is a lie—her past, her appearance, her name, and even her current self—everything is part of a story penned by the Second Prince. Even her life itself hangs in the balance. As long as the Second Prince wishes, the moment the ink blots her name, her life will come to a full stop.
“Thank you for the dessert, Miss Evelia.”
The young knight said the girl’s false name and happily picked up a piece of pastry sprinkled with chocolate chips, taking a big bite of it.
“You’re welcome! This is a new pastry we’ve made; after all, we have a new owner, and we need to figure out his taste, so we trouble you knights to come and taste it.”
“Ah, pastries.” Another knight beside him contemplated while holding a piece of strawberry tart, “I seem to rarely see the captain eat pastries.”
“Does he not like them?”
Evelia carried the tray, calculating Alman’s preferences in her mind. Given his vibrant personality, he should enjoy such treats.
“Rather, he seems to like nothing at all?”
“Yes, when we go out to parties or the victory banquets, I notice the captain rarely uses utensils; he just keeps drinking the beer he bought from outside. Ah, come to think of it, he does have a favorite; he really loves that kind of beer mixed with water.”
“But the taste is really nice; when you need to drink a lot, it has to be that kind of beer.”
The two knights exchanged words, munching on their pastries while mumbling about their captain’s peculiar habits.
“I remember the captain rarely eats big meat dishes because of his stomach problems?” The knight with the strawberry tart wiped his mouth, rolling his eyes as he recalled, “Basically, he seems to avoid food at large banquets, but he enjoys some fried snacks and cold dishes that go well with drinks. You can often see him bringing snacks to parties.”
“How do I feel like those things are worse for stomach problems…? But I have indeed seen him carry around a medicine bottle that supposedly treats stomach issues. I feel like he takes his medicine like he’s eating peanuts, tossing a piece into his mouth at random times.”
While saying this, the knight mimicked Alman in the past by pulling down a chocolate chip from the pastry and elegantly tossing it into his mouth.
“Well, to be honest, all of us soldiers have some issues; when deployed, if the supplies get cut off, we’re left eating tree bark—whoever eats that ends up with a problem. And then there are all sorts of things, like rheumatism; none of us can escape it. Oh, right, and pharyngitis! You see, I strained my throat while training the new recruits a while ago, and it still hurts now. It sounds like a common issue, but anyone who has it knows how unpleasant it is.”
“If your throat hurts, then you can give me your strawberry tart—hey! You’re really eating fast!”
Although his throat hurt, the knight quickly stuffed the remainder of the strawberry tart into his mouth while the other knight was still processing what was happening, as if he predicted what his comrade might do next.
“So, what do we need to prepare for our banquet? This is our first time setting up dinner for the owner, and we hope the master is satisfied with our preparations.”
Evelia thought to herself, believing Alman was someone easy to please, only to realize he was actually quite hard to serve.
“He won’t possibly be dissatisfied; as long as you all prepare diligently, he will surely be happy. Outside of battle, I hardly ever see the captain angry or dissatisfied; you all must have seen it too; he’s quite easygoing.”
“I don’t want to be in the same squad with the captain on the battlefield again… The strawberries are going to come up… Uh, ah… just like eyeballs popping out…”
As soon as the word “battlefield” was mentioned, the knight who had just stuffed his mouth with strawberries turned pale, as if recalling something disgusting, covering his mouth and twitching his eyebrows.
“Haah… Don’t say that; Miss Evelia is still here; what will she think of our captain…”
The other knight also wore an awkward expression, observing Evelia’s face which was still smeared with strawberry jam, and it didn’t look good. He seemed ready to complain, but when he saw Evelia was still a young girl, he refrained from speaking of the brutal matters of the battlefield.
“Does the master often get angry on the battlefield?” Evelia raised an eyebrow, feeling she suddenly discovered an unusual side of Alman.
“Well, it’s not really like that… How should I put it? You’ve seen the captain, right? That kind of carefree smile?”
“Yes… I have.”
Evelia felt blinded by that sunshine-like smile every time.
“Let me put it this way: the captain always smiles like that, which seems fine usually. But… can you imagine him still smiling when the battlefield is littered with corpses and his sword is still stuck in an enemy’s head?”
“……”
Evelia froze for a moment; for some reason, that vague image gave her an inexplicable chill.
“Actually, it’s not that terrifying, Miss Evelia. Even though he’s smiling, don’t imagine that scene too terrifying—” As he spoke, the knight nudged the other. “Look at what you’re saying; don’t scare this young lady.”
“Sigh, the captain is too whimsical, so it’s hard to comprehend. Miss Evelia, he is still a good person; just treat him like you would any other master. He never picks on anyone… It’s just—I’d rather not recall such things…”
The knight solemnly advised Evelia while muttering something, sighing and turning to leave. The other knight wore a face that said, “I feel the same,” expressed his thanks for the dessert Evelia brought before deciding to stroll away together.
Evelia watched the two gradually walk further away, initially expressionless, but as she pondered their words, the questions in her mind multiplied. This guy Alman does not seem as simple and innocent as he is portrayed outside, yet , when facing her and others, he does not appear to be hiding anything either.
That carefree demeanor seems to exude from his very essence. Has his carefree nature reached a point where he cannot become serious even on the battlefield?
Evelia silently stared into the courtyard in the distance, carrying the tray towards another group of knights.
…What a strange man…
