# Chapter 8
“Ea!”
Before I could even be surprised, I heard another child’s voice calling for someone outside the glass window. At that sound, the child who had been greeting Rite immediately left.
Would he be upset? I lowered my head to check Rite’s expression, but I couldn’t find any particular emotion on his face. Social skills were still a long way off. Come to think of it, it was only natural since I had raised him practically confined to the house.
“The little ones must be going around collecting chocolate,” the man said with a smile as he watched the children running away.
“Ah, there’s a little one here too.”
The man belatedly noticed Rite and held out a basket that had been placed on the store counter.
“Here, pick one.”
The basket was filled with round objects. Decorated with colorful paper, they looked just like…
“Ah, it’s almost Founding Day.”
Now that I thought about it, the streets and shops seemed to be decorated differently than usual. When I was in Moran, Founding Day celebrations were so spectacular you couldn’t miss them, but here they were relatively modest.
“An Artalisian forgetting Founding Day?” the man laughed incredulously, then extended the basket to Rite once more.
“Don’t you know either? It’s chocolate. Pick one you like.”
At the man’s words, Rite looked up at me intently. When I nodded to indicate it was okay, only then did Rite choose an egg-shaped chocolate from the basket. It was one with purple wings drawn on it.
“You should say ‘thank you,'” I prompted.
“Thank you,” Rite said, looking up at the man, who smiled and placed the basket back on the counter. I extended my hand to Rite.
“Let’s go, Rite.”
“Okay.”
Rite’s small, soft hand slipped into my palm. With his unusually high body temperature, it felt like holding a compact heater. Rite was looking curiously at the chocolate in his hand.
“That’s made to look like a dragon’s egg. Remember when we read the Artalis founding myth last time?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember the dragon from the story? Noah. That chocolate is modeled after the egg that came from Noah and Artalis.”
Rite nodded while still looking at the chocolate in his hand.
“And Founding Day is a festival celebrating the day Artalis and Noah established the nation.”
Rite showed no particular reaction. After thinking for a moment, I cautiously asked:
“Should we go together? You’ve never seen it before.”
“Okay.”
I thought he would be excited, but Rite’s reaction was rather lukewarm. Maybe he didn’t know what a festival was. I felt somewhat disappointed.
“Alright. Then today, let’s just check on Mr. Markus’s autocarriage and go home.”
“Okay.”
“Are you upset about something?”
“Arden.”
Rite suddenly stopped walking. I looked at him, not hiding my puzzlement. He didn’t seem angry. I bent down to make eye contact with Rite. His purple eyes looked straight at me.
“I want to go around without wearing my cloak.”
“Why? Are you hot?”
Rite had a higher body temperature than others and didn’t feel the cold easily. Still, Winterishe’s weather was too cold to go around without an outer garment. Rite quietly shook his head at my question. “Arden,” he called my name again.
“I want to play with the other children.”
I could see my expression hardening in Rite’s eyes. I had thought this day would come eventually. But he hadn’t seemed particularly disappointed until just now, so I didn’t expect it to come this quickly.
I had read about the characteristics of childhood in “How to Raise Your Child Smart, Volume 2.”
‘A period when cognitive abilities develop, emotions become more refined, and peer groups form.’
That’s how the book summarized the characteristics of childhood.
‘It is also a time when children experience feelings of superiority or inferiority.’
I recalled the additional sentence that followed. I didn’t want to instill feelings of inferiority in the child. I didn’t want to leave him with a bad and unfortunate past.
But at the same time, I couldn’t allow a child whose horns suddenly appear and whose arms sprout scales to have contact with just anyone.
“Is that not allowed?”
“Well…”
When he looked up at me with those big, clear eyes and asked, I felt the urge to grant him anything. What should I do? If I explained it in words, would he understand?
Rite was growing day by day. This wasn’t just the typical expression parents use. He was truly growing at an incredible rate. Considering Rite’s height, weight, and lost baby teeth, his physical age was approximately 11 years old.
But in reality, only 5 years had passed since I found Rite in the forest. In those 5 years, Rite had grown twice as fast as others.
So was Rite’s mental age 11 or 5? Were the things I needed to explain to Rite simple enough for a 5-year-old to understand? As I hesitated to answer, Rite tilted his head.
“Arden?”
I had learned from books that to be a trustworthy guardian, I shouldn’t avoid answering questions, but I had no idea how to respond to this.
To raise a child who grew faster than others, I needed to acquire knowledge and grow quickly myself. But the child was growing much faster than me, running far ahead without waiting for me.
“Let’s talk about this when we get home.”
I decided to postpone the answer.
* * *
Was this really the right approach? I wasn’t confident. Books didn’t teach how to handle a child whose horns frequently sprouted from their head and whose arms developed scales. All I could do was try through trial and error.
The sound of water stopped in the bathroom. While Rite was washing up, I prepared a snack. According to our usual rules, snacks were allowed only once a day between lunch and dinner, but I had no choice. After preparing what was closer to a late-night snack, I stood at the table waiting for Rite.
“Rite, let’s have a snack.”
Rite came out of the bathroom with the sound of the door. At my words, he quickly approached the table. He looked puzzled about why I was giving him a snack at this hour, but his face brightened when he saw the strawberry tart on the plate.
Horns sprouted on top of Rite’s head as he reached for the plate with an excited face. Horns inevitably appeared when he was more excited than usual. I quickly grabbed the plate and held it up high.
“Wait.”
Rite’s expression changed to a crestfallen look as his favorite strawberry tart was suddenly taken away. Now, black scales began to appear on the skin of his right arm.
“What the heck!”
Rite jerked his body and stretched his arm upward, but my arm was still longer. I had to succeed in this training before the rapidly growing Rite caught up to me.
“First, sit properly in the chair.”
“This isn’t fair. That’s mean, Arden.”
“I’ll give it to you if you put your horns away.”
It felt somewhat like animal training, but I couldn’t think of a better method. At my words, Rite fumbled to find the horns on his head. He started pressing down on the prominently jutting horns with his palms, but that didn’t make them go away.
“How do I put them away?”
“That’s something you need to figure out yourself.”
At those words, Rite’s expression filled with mischief. He puffed his cheeks and glared at me.
“Be honest. You don’t know either, right? How am I supposed to figure that out?”
He was right, but I didn’t want to admit it readily. I didn’t want to appear as an incompetent guardian. I spoke calmly.
“Will your horns go away if you get angry like that? Try to calm down first.”
“No! Why are you suddenly doing this?”
“You said you wanted to play with other kids without your cloak. Then you need to learn how to put your horns away first.”
“Why?”
I was at a loss for words. Why? Because I don’t know what might happen if others find out you’re different? Because you might be captured by the Knights and subjected to who knows what? I couldn’t honestly tell a child such things.
“Because other children don’t have horns on their heads.”
“Is it wrong to have horns?”
“It’s not wrong, but… there’s nothing good about letting others know you’re different.”
“Why?”
“They might think badly of you.”
Even after my answer, Rite still seemed unable to fully understand. I didn’t expect the child to understand when I was vaguely evading the issue without a clear answer myself. I waved the strawberry tart in front of Rite.
“When you learn how to put your horns away, I’ll let you go out without your cloak.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Even just a little, even just a little would be good…”
Rite, with a thoroughly irritated face, pressed on his horns and then roughly removed his hands. His palms were red. I put the tart on the upper shelf and tried to grab Rite’s hands, but he shook me off. I froze in that awkward position.
“This is annoying. I don’t understand why we’re doing this.”
“Okay. I understand, so please let me see your palms for a moment.”
“No. You didn’t do anything I asked for either.”
Rite hid his palms behind his back. I had to try my best to speak gently. Raising a child was a continuous exercise in patience.
“I need to check if you hurt your hands.”
“If Arden gives me the strawberry tart, I’ll show you my palms.”
He learned remarkably fast. I was stunned by how he was counter-negotiating with me.
