The scene reflected in her drowsy eyes, just awakened from a nap, struck Annamaria Furlanetto’s consciousness like a slap to the face, sharpening it instantly.
“…Rosaria…?”
When she called out, the girl standing beside the marble table suddenly turned to look at her.
In her eyes flickered an unfamiliar expression—not quite guilt, but something close to a faint fear.
Rosaria was the same age as Annamaria—ten years old.
Where Annamaria was small and often mistaken for being younger than she was, Rosaria stood tall and was frequently perceived as much older.
Annamaria had always envied that.
Rosaria always wore a blouse adorned with frills and slim trousers, a silk sash tied around her waist.
Rather than a beautiful girl, she resembled a dignified young lady.
Though she was tongue-tied, her expressive face always made Annamaria feel comfortable, especially when she smiled warmly while watching Annamaria’s endless chatter.
But now, Rosaria Romano’s expression was stiff.
Annamaria pushed herself up from the chaise lounge and stood.
“What’s going on? Rosaria…”
With trembling fingers, Annamaria pointed at the marble table.
Rosaria took a hesitant step back and said, “No, this isn’t me, Annamaria. It’s not me.”
“Then who was it!?”
At the pointed spot lay two empty white porcelain plates.
“Who ate the pudding!?”
Before falling asleep on the chaise lounge, there had definitely been one shiny, wobbly pudding on each plate.
Amber-colored caramel sauce had slowly dripped down their smooth sides, and whipped cream had been beautifully decorated around the edges.
“There’s only you and me here. No one else could have eaten it. I was looking forward to it… I was so excited. We promised we’d eat it together. And yet, someone really gobbled it all up on their own…”
Under the early summer sun, the two had spent the entire morning running and playing in the gardens of Romano Manor—the residence where Rosaria lived.
Then they went inside the manor.
They finished the sandwiches prepared with crispy bacon and fresh vegetables and both grew sleepy, so they headed for the chaise lounge.
They promised to eat the pudding together once they woke up, lying side by side on the narrow lounge, holding hands, their faces close enough to feel each other’s breath as they chuckled quietly.
At that moment, Rosaria had teasingly said, “I think I could still eat more. Can I have both puddings?”
“No way, if you do that, it’s the end of our friendship.”
Rosaria had laughed in response, assuming it was just a joke.
But then…
“Are you seriously saying you actually ate it!?”
“N-no, it wasn’t me. Someone else—”
“Someone else? Who? No one else is in the manor today.”
Count Romano was currently in Capital Keno attending a gathering of lords.
The steward was out on business.
So, the only people inside the Romano Manor were the cook, the head maid, three maids, the gardener, and a few Knights stationed outside the gate.
It was hard to believe the cook or maids would sneak a bite.
If they wanted to steal food, they would have eaten it before serving.
The gardener never set foot inside the manor, and the Knights didn’t even enter the garden.
When Annamaria glared at her, Rosaria averted her eyes with a guilty look—a side of her that Annamaria had never seen before.
More than the fact that the pudding was devoured, it was seeing Rosaria’s pitiful demeanor that made Annamaria’s stomach twist with irritation.
Rosaria stood tall and graceful; she shouldn’t behave so disgracefully.
“Why do you look so miserable!?”
Rosaria raised her eyebrows, “Miserable!?”
Strong-willed as she was, Rosaria hated being seen as weak.
“If you did something wrong, just admit it and apologize properly. Why do you have such a sad puppy face?”
“A-puppy!? That’s an insult! Besides, I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“But you ate the pudding.”
“That’s…! That’s… not true! I won’t admit it!”
“You’re not admitting it in this situation!?”
“I won’t!”
“Stubborn and greedy!”
“Shut up!”
“Saying ‘shut up’ is what you say to make someone quiet, right? So you don’t want to hear it, right? Because it’s true.”
“I said ‘shut up’ because you were being annoying! You chatty duck!”
“A duck!?”
Annamaria was aware her voice was far from a beautiful tone.
It sounded more like a dying duck…
Maybe “duck” was even the kinder comparison, but hearing it hurt.
The two glared at each other.
“I never thought you’d be so stubborn, Rosaria.”
“I never thought you’d be so mean to call me pitiful and a puppy, Annamaria.”
She suddenly found her childhood friend, with her shiny silver curls and dignified posture, irritating.
If only Rosaria would just say honestly, “I ate it. Sorry.”
Then after pouting a bit, she could forgive her.
But Rosaria stubbornly refused to admit her wrongdoing.
Annamaria hadn’t known that about her.
After a long silence, Annamaria said, “We’re through, Rosaria Romano.”
In a cold voice, Rosaria answered, “As you wish, Annamaria Furlanetto.”
***
Three days after the declaration of their falling out.
Annamaria was in her own house’s kitchen, wracked with worry.
She had asked the cook several times for guidance and had learned how to bake crumbly cookies.
On her sixth attempt, she finally baked cookies good enough to gift—good enough to offer to Rosaria as a peace offering.
She wrapped the cooled cookies in beautiful thin paper and tied a ribbon around them.
‘Tomorrow, I’ll go to Romano Manor with this and make up with Rosaria.’
It was nearly midnight.
The kitchen was dark and silent; the cook and maids were all fast asleep.
The only light came from a flickering, unreliable lamp illuminating her hands.
Even if Rosaria had devoured the pudding, Annamaria knew she had been petty not to forgive her.
She couldn’t bear to lose her friend because of her own small-mindedness.
That was why she would apologize.
Bathed in the lamp’s glow, Annamaria’s shadow flickered.
The shadow swayed—then suddenly grew tall behind her.
Before she could react to the unexpected presence, two black hands gently pressed down on her shoulders.
And then, a woman’s voice whispered from behind her ear, “Who are you going to give that to? Your most precious, precious person? Give it to them? Give it?”
She couldn’t turn around or ask “Who?” because the breath against her neck was so cold it froze her skin, and she sensed an overwhelmingly evil presence.
“Having a precious person is wonderful, isn’t it… wonderful… Your precious person is very… very delicious. Who is it? Who’s delicious? Who?”
The licking tone sent a chill to Annamaria’s very core.
And then, Annamaria never delivered those cookies to make peace again—.
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