To the Love Born in the Lowest Place

“What?”

Unsurprisingly, Liv was unaware of her own birthday. Having never celebrated one, even once in her life. She could have asked the gods the date of her birth, but they paid no heed to such human traditions as ‘birthdays’. Influenced by the gods, Liv herself had never given it much thought, living her entire life ignorant of when her birthday fell.

“Why today, specifically?”

“I asked Hayden when the former Empress was abducted. Considering the labor duration, that date seemed the most plausible for your birth.”

“I see…”

“Was your birthday never celebrated after joining the Hamelsvoort family?”

“No, no one ever asked about it…”

Those words seemed to vex Emmett slightly, but he soon nodded with a gentle expression:

“It is fine, for you have a birthday to celebrate from now on, Liv.”

Muttering that she too had a birthday, Liv’s face brightened. She had always longed to be like others, and come to think of it, that required having a birthday. So now she would be a bit more ordinary.

‘I have a birthday too!’

The date of July 27th suddenly felt immensely endearing. Ah, having spent her life envying humans, the feeling of assimilating brought Liv unparalleled joy. Seeing her blissful expression, the smiling Laga urged enthusiastically:

“We have prepared a party in the banquet hall to celebrate you, Miss. Shall we go together?”

Led by Laga’s hand to the hall, Liv was greeted by an enormous three-tier cake.

“Wow…!”

Her mouth agape in awe at the grand cake beyond any she had witnessed at Hildegard’s birthdays, the chef Max beamed with pride at Liv’s reaction.

“Miss, if you would blow out the candles?”

Liv approached and carefully exhaled, requiring several attempts before the flames flickered out – much to the servants’ delighted uproar that she would ‘make it this time!’ Though no outside guests were present, only the Lartman household staff, Liv smiled more radiantly than ever before.

“Thank you all…”

“We have prepared all your favorite dishes, my lady.”

“My lady, accept these flowers.”

The gardener Julien approached, extending an immense bouquet that nearly obscured Liv’s face.

“Ah…”

Gazing at the vibrant assortment, Liv beamed joyfully once more, her elation mirrored on the servants’ satisfied faces.

Parting their ranks, Emmett strode purposefully towards Liv, a small box in his hand.

“Happy birthday, Liv.”

Having spoken those words, Emmett seemed to steel himself before planting a tender kiss upon her forehead. In that moment, Liv felt the world’s beauty was too much to bear.

As Liv struggled to steady her pounding heart and ragged breaths, the surrounding servants excitedly whispered amongst themselves.

After gazing at Emmett for a long while, her eyes misting, Liv accepted the proffered box and opened it. Too small for jewelry like necklaces or rings commonly gifted to women, it instead contained an exquisite-looking wristwatch. Studded with gemstone hour and minute hands, it glittered magnificently beneath the chandeliers.

“You once mentioned fearing the inability to track time’s passage.”

“Ah…”

She had indeed said that while imprisoned in Abgrund – Liv never expected him to still recall those words.

“Now you find yourself in a world where you can perceive time’s flow. I prepared this hoping it may offer you solace.”

Emmett affixed the yellow leather wristwatch snugly around Liv’s slender wrist. Perfectly sized for her.

Surrounded by well-wishers congratulating her, tears welled in Liv’s eyes as she smiled.

Having tasted such joy, she felt unable to ever revert, equally overjoyed yet terrified…

* * *

“Sheesh…”

Meanwhile, at that very moment, Hayden lingered outside the banquet hall with a sullen expression. Each year around this time, memories of the former Empress’s abductions and his clansmen’s deaths resurfaced, leaving him despondent. Robbed of the future he ought to have claimed, he couldn’t bear acting indifferent.

Needing to clear his head, Hayden started towards the gardens with a scowl.

“Why must that fake Saintess be afforded such treatment!”

“…Hmm.”

At least, until those words reached his ears.

“What was that?”

“Eek!”

Startled by the sudden voice, Becca whirled to face its source – a brown-haired man whose appearance seemed vaguely familiar.

‘The Duke’s guest, wasn’t he?’

And from what she knew, this guest had been Liv’s constant shadow, regarding her with undisguised interest.

To be overheard badmouthing Liv by someone so clearly on her side could very well cost Becca her head. As she glanced around for some excuse, the other servants who had heard her had already scattered.

‘Well, how cowardly!’

Left alone to face the man, Becca began stammering, her earlier bravado deflating when directly confronting an adult male allied with Liv.

“Well, you see…”

“Surely you weren’t speaking ill of our lady?”

“No, of course not!”

Though her mention of ‘Fake Saintess’ made the subject glaringly obvious, Becca offered an unconvincing denial. The man then advanced menacingly towards her. Up close, his towering stature instilled a profound sense of intimidation.

Shrinking back in fear, Becca soon found herself pressed against an unyielding wall, cornered with nowhere left to retreat. The man’s piercing brown eyes bored into her from his superior vantage.

“No, you wouldn’t speak ill of our lady.”

Clink.

In that instant, Becca realized some metallic object now pressed against her head. A sidelong glance revealed its dreadful nature, prompting a strangled yelp:

“Hick!”

It was a pistol muzzle digging into her scalp.

‘A soldier?’

Menaced by the oft-rumored but never witnessed firearm, she didn’t dare to twitch a muscle. One squeeze of the trigger and her brains would decorate the walls. Faced with her mortality, all her earlier bravado vanished, replaced by pure survival instinct.

“P-Please spare me…”

She barely managed those whispered words, prompting the man to smirk down at her condescendingly.

“Who said anything about killing you?”

“I beg you…”

“Hmm, but that would hardly do our lady any favors, would it?”

With those words, he roughly shoved the pistol barrel against her temple, causing Becca to stagger before regaining her balance. By the time she raised her head, the firearm had vanished.

“You simply caught me in an ill mood, that’s all…”

“Y-Yes, I’m sorry…! It won’t happen again, I swear!”

“See that it doesn’t. Lest you invoke divine punishment and face… unforeseen consequences.”

Chuckling ominously, the man turned and strode away, leaving Becca to slump to the floor, her legs giving out beneath her.

“Hah, huff…”

Had she truly nearly died, simply for gossiping about Liv Hamelsvoort?

“I wasn’t even wrong…!”

Resentment overcoming her fear, Becca protested vehemently.

She disliked Liv, as a devout follower of the Church. Liv had mocked God. To accept such wanton fake Saintess behavior would be unforgivable.

Yet recalling the pistol Hayden had aimed at her, Becca could only swallow her anger. That firearm held the power to render any rage impotent in an instant.

“I can’t die…”

Resolving to preserve her life for now, Becca rose shakily. But apprehension towards the fake Saintess still gnawed within her.

* * *

Reminiscing about yesterday’s birthday party, Liv wore a contented smile. Having a birthday truly felt wonderful. That single memory might sustain her for an entire year…

Knock knock.

A polite rapping sounded at the door.

“Yes, come in.”

Unsurprisingly, it was Emmett who entered, prompting Liv to rise happily.

“Emmett, what is it?”

“Ah, I have something to inform you.”

Meeting her eyes, Emmett continued:

“Now that I have returned to the Duchy, I feel we ought to host a soiree to maintain relations with the local nobility. Will you attend as well, Liv?”

Though no match for the capital, the Edelburg region of the Empire’s southern provinces where the Lartman Duchy was situated was still quite prosperous. Many nobles dwelled here with their own sizable high society.

“Of course.”

The instant ‘soiree’ was mentioned, Liv reflexively agreed. Though her memories of such events leaned more bitter than sweet, she would endure anything to mingle among people once more.

“Okay then, I’ll make the preparations. Is there anything specific you desire for the soiree? A particular decor theme, your favorite color, perhaps…”

“Hmm, I like yellow.”

“With summer upon us, a lemon dessert theme in yellow hues could be quite fitting. Understood.”

After Emmett departed, the eavesdropping Laga remarked with an excited expression:

“How wonderful that you will attend the local soirees here, Miss!”

“Why is that?”

“Since you will be residing here from now on, it would be wise to familiarize yourself with the surrounding nobility’s faces beforehand. You mentioned preferring yellow? Then I’ll prepare a yellow gown for you!”

“Okay.”

“Ah, I’m certain His Grace had a dress commissioned for just such an occasion…”

Laga began muttering to herself, immersed in her own thoughts, as Liv observed her quietly.

How would the local nobles receive her, she wondered? Would they shun her like the capital’s residents? Then again, disliking the ‘Fake Saintess’ would be the more peculiar response.

But Liv had grown accustomed to disdain by now, so it mattered little either way.