From the window of my fancy cottage, I looked at her bathing in the shining sun. Her smile as she watered the flowers made my light heart tremble. Ah, Miora, you can't do that to me; my heart can't take all this sweetness first thing in the morning.

 As if she sensed my gaze, the red-haired girl glanced at me for a few seconds, ignoring my glare she went back to take care of the flower, every day at 8 o'clock this same scenario happens I look at her and she pretends that's he doesn't exist, despite that I smiled and closed the curtain.

 I took a few steps to move from my window chair to my bed. I wasn't allowed to have those things called smart phones, so I took the next best thing in my room. I picked up the thick book in my bed that I fell asleep while reading it, "The Adventures of Wanderer." I have three days to finish this book. It seems like an easy task for someone who doesn't have something else to do, but this book lacks pictures. Don't get me wrong, I read picture less books all the time; it's just that this one has too many details. I couldn't finish the sixth chapter, and this book has 22 chapters. Also, as a reminder, this book lacks pictures.

 Also, imagine a book with this thick falling on your skull because you felt a little sleepy because you felt bored while reading a detailed description of how a female kangaroo was jumping—an accurate description. Yes, did I get the idea? Yes, but why did the author continue to describe this character, the female kangaroo named Marian, who apparently will be one of the main characters in the story... I have no idea, but I know more about this female kangaroo with a graceful figure, as the writer describes, than I know about the main character.

 Wait, how did this book end up in my library? How did my mother allow it to get here? perhaps she mistook this was an adventure book like the ones I love. The title deceived her. "The Adventures of a Wanderer." Hmmm. The author knew how to sell his garbage, poor thing. I must keep the details of the book to myself. I will thank her and hide this book, which seems to be heading down a dark path, somewhere before I leave.

 I threw the masterpiece that no one asked for on the bed and stretched my legs on the table. I glimpsed the wooden ceiling. What should I do? I have three days before I get out of my luxurious prison. How can I make the most of these three days? I can send a request to visit the lake. My father will most likely agree. It will be the last time I can go there, but I won't get the answer until tomorrow. Well, fishing from eight in the morning until five in the evening will be tomorrow's schedule.

 I jumped out of my seat and opened the curtain.... It's good that it's still there. "Miura, can you go to the manor's mansion and ask for permission to visit the lake tomorrow? Thank you." I did not wait for a response. I closed the curtain again and returned to my seat, even though I heard her melodious voice. From the outside, why would someone so cute work for me? Is this an evil plot from my father? Just looking at her gives me so many dirty thoughts. For fear of destroying something so pure, I set a few rules for myself that I must not break, no matter what:

 One: It is forbidden to look at Miura directly. Two: Keep any conversation with Miura short and do not look into her eyes during the conversation. Three: Five minutes of pure staring are allowed early in the morning while she is watering the flowers.

 Let's stop thinking about Miura, and go back to what I was thinking about before, what was it? Oh, right, how will I spend the rest of my days here?

 My mother informed me that she and my siblings were coming to visit me. My mother would definitely come. I don't know about the others though. The last time I saw them was on my mother's birthday a few months ago. They would protest and say that they would meet me anyway on the day of departure. So there is no need to add another day; I prefer that. I also do not feel comfortable around them since the accident. On all of my mother's previous birthdays, the atmosphere would turn awkward every time she tried to force me to sit with them, my mother, and perhaps my siblings as well, will spend the third day here. This will be the last day. Above all, this is the schedule for the third day of staying with the family. This is how I finished the schedule for two days out of three. There is only one-day left, which is today. How should I spend it?

 I spun around in my swivel chair, searching for something to occupy my time. However, my father had diligently ensured that my quarters contained the bare essentials. There was only a bed, a small table, a bookshelf, and a wardrobe. Nothing more. My entire cottage was condensed into one cramped room; the training sessions ended last month, making this month the first without any yelling or bruises in seven years. It was fun in the first days, but the repetition and lack of purpose made me feel for the first time that my cottage was actually a prison, as my father wanted it to be.

"knock.... knock...."

 My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door. I did not have a watch, so I did not know exactly what time it was, but I knew from the knocking who was standing outside and the reason for his coming here.

"Come in, Laura."

 A beautiful middle-aged lady with long red hair and a voluptuous body. Laura is my personal maid, or, as I prefer to call her, "Miura Final Ascension." She is beautiful, delicate, and has a melodious voice, and unlike her daughter, she is good at hiding her fear from me. For the past seven years, she has been the ideal maid that Miura should aspire to be.

"Mr. Jrandreys, I have brought breakfast."

 I entered the hut and moved briskly until I reached the table and placed the tray, then I stood up straight and waited for my orders. Was this natural talent or years of accumulated training and experience?

"Thank you, Laura; you can go now."

 She just bowed slightly before leaving the room quietly. Every time she left the room, I wanted to applaud out of respect for her acting prowess.

 There were guidelines for behavior around Miura, but only one about Laura: keep your eyes off of her.

 I hadn't even lifted the plate when the aroma of the vegetable soup filled my senses. The main dish was a white cube of tofu on a wooden platter, and next to it was a slice of soft bread that had clearly just come out of the oven based on the hot air escaping around it. I am only permitted to consume this till my next birthday. Then I'll be able to consume meat. I detest the bland meal I have been eating all my life, but I am not looking forward to the meat that will be brought to me later.

 "knock.... knock...."

 The knocking on the door stopped me from eating my first bite from my dish. Laura wasn't known for forgetting anything; she wouldn't get out of the room before ending all of her tasks. She wants to reduce the time she spent with me as much as she can That's why she is so professional in her job; I guess everyone has their first time making mistakes.

 "come in"

 I said that as I picked up the wooden spoon and began to eat.

 I can hear the door opening slightly while sipping the soup; like always, it had the same salty taste with a little sweetness in the end. I don't like it, but I don't have the right to choose what to eat.

 "Mr. Jrandreys"

 I chocked at hearing that voice. I looked at the source and saw a girl in casual clothes, unlike the usual maid clothes she wears. Her hair was in a ponytail. She looked at him with a little reddishness in her face. Her hands are tightening its grip on her skirt. She is gathering her thoughts and is unsure of what to say.

 Wait a second, I saw this same scene in a few stories I read before: wearing clothes different than usual, a red face, nervousness, and I can smell a hint of perfume coming from her too.

 Yes, this is without a doubt a love confession. 

 So all these years, she was avoiding me because she was just embarrassed. Hmmm, I can't blame her; I have my father's genes after all. I don't like him not even a bit, but I should thank him for this face.

 "What is it, Miura?"

 The stories I've read in the past suggest that I should act as though I don't care and that I'm preoccupied. In order to apply what I had learned, I got up, went to pick up "The Adventures of Wanderer," the book I had previously thrown at the bed, and ignored Marian's presence as I began reading the trashy book that explained how warm Marian the kangaroo fur is.

 Miura, let's see what you plan to do. I cast a sidelong glance at her from behind the book.