The Harvest Mouse Exits the Fairytale Together with Cinderella

Elodie picked up her fork and cautiously poked at the piece of lobster meat.

Then, after hesitating for a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut and put it in her mouth.
"…!"
It was soft yet firm.

Savory, slightly salty, and incredibly rich.
Her eyes widened as she chewed, an expression of pure revelation spreading across her face.
"It’s… delicious…"

"Of course it is!"
Zenovia puffed up with pride and promptly scooped up a spoonful of caviar, pushing it toward Elodie.
"This is even better."

"Mmm."
"See? Now you get it, right? I eat better food than you."
"Mmm."

Elodie chewed the tiny, bursting caviar pearls, still watching Zenovia like she was some kind of fascinating specimen.
At first, Zenovia seemed oblivious, enjoying her moment of superiority.
Then, after a few seconds, her expression suddenly froze.

Her face contorted as if she had just realized—Wait, what the hell am I doing?
Wow. She’s a real idiot.
She was so simple-minded, it was hard to believe she had any real capacity for hatred.

Now that the mood had settled a bit, Elodie decided to ask something she was curious about.
"Do ya not ‘member Grandfather’s face well?"
"How do you know that?"
You told me yourself.

Elodie nearly scoffed.
She was itching to point out how stupid Zenovia was.
But for the sake of keeping the conversation flowing, she held back and continued.

"Just figured it out."
"Hah. You must have trouble recognizing him too, huh?"
Zenovia sounded almost… pleased.

Was she relieved to confirm that it wasn’t just her?
Elodie chose not to shatter her illusion by saying, No, he recognizes me just fine.
"So I’m still third place, then…"

There was unmistakable relief in her muttering.
Third place?
"What’s that mean?"

If Zenovia were in her usual foul mood, she would have refused to explain.
But maybe because her temper had cooled a little, she actually answered.
"In swordsmanship tournaments, first place gets a gold medal, second gets silver, and third gets bronze."

"So?"
"I always get gold medals."
A swordsmanship prodigy.

Elodie had heard plenty about how ridiculously talented the so-called mad second-born of House Valkyrisen had been in the past.
"But no matter what, I can’t beat my brother—who’s never even entered a tournament."
"That’s…"

Of course you can’t.
Elodie had seen Edmund’s inhuman level of swordsmanship firsthand.
When he grew up, he’d be known as a legendary war hero.

There was no way Zenovia could compete with that kind of monstrous talent.
And they were three years apart in age.
It wasn’t like they were both fully grown adults—she was fighting an uphill battle from the start.

"And I can’t even beat that weakling youngest."
At that, Elodie thought of Karon, who was curled up in pain just earlier.
She couldn't beat that patient-looking, tiny, doll-like kid?

"Really?"
"It’s not because I’m weak! That bastard is just… like some freakish monster…"
Zenovia mumbled to herself, getting increasingly worked up, before finally shouting.

"Anyway, that’s why I’m bronze!"
So… because she was the third strongest?
What are you, a ranked animal in a pack?

This translation is the intellectual property of .
If that was the case, then why had she been so wary of Elodie?
Elodie could never beat her in a fight.

"I’m weak, though?"
She tilted her head.
"I can’t use a sword."

"I know that. It’s just… Grandfather is usually really good at recognizing beastfolk, but he treats you like his real granddaughter."
"……."
"Third place is still fine. At least they remember you. But falling to fourth place…"

Zenovia trailed off, her face turning beet red.
It was like she was about to explode.
And then, right before she did, she just yelled out—

"WHATEVER! That’s just how it is!"
She fumed to herself, arms crossed.
It was ridiculous.

But when Elodie thought about it more deeply…
She really thought swordsmanship was the only thing that made her worth anything?
Zenovia acted out so much that people probably never had the chance to praise anything but her swordsmanship.

Nobody had ever told her, You're kind, or You're considerate.
She’d never once heard, The second-born is so gentle.
And… she didn’t seem particularly good at studying, either.

So she was getting anxious because, in this household, even her greatest talent only placed her third, and now a new contender had appeared?
If she asked Eisen, she was sure he’d have a completely different answer.
Elodie recalled how Eisen had immediately scolded Zenovia for her arrogance earlier.

If he had truly given up on her, he would have just reacted indifferently, as he always did.
If you have no expectations, there’s no room for disappointment.
"Zenovia, you're not third place."

"What?"
Zenovia, who had been acting so simple-minded throughout the meal, suddenly snapped as if she had been personally attacked.
"What do you know?!"

"What does Zenovia know?"
"W-what?"
"You never even asked Grandfather yourself."

"……."
Crazy. Would you ask something like that?
"Grandfather, am I really just your third-best?"

Zenovia’s mouth hung open, her face twisting as if the mere idea disgusted her.
She admired Eisen, yet at the same time, she found him intimidating.
Elodie, seeing that reaction, grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

"C’mon, let’s go."
"H-hang on a second!"
"I’ll ask with ya."

Zenovia hesitated, resisting for a moment—
But when she saw Elodie stumble slightly, she huffed in annoyance and followed along, as if she had no choice.
Her eyes, however, held a faint trace of expectation.

* * *
"Uncle!"
Just as Elodie and Zenovia found Eisen—

"Uncle, I’ve missed you dearly!"
A middle-aged man was standing before him, greeting him with overwhelming emotion.
What the…

The timing felt all wrong.
Elodie and Zenovia stood there, blinking, unable to barge into such a dramatic reunion.
And yet, they couldn’t leave either.

She had worked too hard to get Zenovia here, feeding her, coaxing her, and even getting her to open up!
Just then, Eagles, who had been standing like a door in the background, noticed them and walked over.
"You two seem to have grown close."

"What?"
Zenovia frowned in utter confusion—then, belatedly realizing that she was still holding Elodie’s hand, yanked her arm away in horror.
"Ah!"

Elodie lost her balance and wobbled, only for Eagles to catch her.
"Young Master, you mustn’t do that. You should be gentle."
"W-why should I?!"

"Strength is a responsibility. Even if you don’t mean to, it can still be violence to someone weaker than you. You should always be aware of that."
"…Whatever. Not my problem."
Zenovia shot a glance at Elodie to check if she was fine, and once she confirmed there was no harm done, she stormed off without another word.

Ugh…
There was nothing she could do about Zenovia for now.
Elodie turned her attention to Eisen and the man before him.

"Grandfather, your nephew?"
Eagles frowned slightly before replying.
"That’s what he claims."

"So it’s not certain?"
"Lord Cassian was orphaned during the war and went missing at the young age of twelve. The only portrait of him left is from when he was an infant, so the only person who would recognize his face is the Duke himself."
Ah.

So this man might have approached Eisen, knowing about his prosopagnosia.
The middle-aged man had an air of quiet sorrow, his gaze filled with emotion.
Then, he stepped closer to Eisen and bowed deeply.

"I haven’t seen you since I was twelve. It’s only natural that you wouldn’t remember me."
"……."
Eisen scanned the man from head to toe.

But a face alone wouldn't give him the answers he needed.
All he could gather was that the man had blond hair, the same shade as his younger brother’s, and light brown eyes.
And that, if his nephew were alive, he would be around this age.

More than anything, there was something oddly familiar about his nervous, hesitant expression—
Something that reminded him very much of that child.