The morning sun streamed gently through the window of the small, quiet room in St. Anne's, casting soft rays across the bed where Lizbeth lay, her face a little less bruised now, the swelling gone. The room was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. Mizuki sat beside the bed, her attention focused on the little girl seated on the floor in front of her.
Rose, barely two years old, held a crayon in her tiny hand, her concentration intense as she struggled to color within the lines of a picture Mizuki had drawn for her. Mizuki leaned in, showing the child how to gently press the crayon, guiding her hand in slow, steady motions.
"Like this, Peanut," Mizuki said softly, smiling as Rose mimicked her. The child's chubby little fingers clutched the crayon tightly, and a burst of joy seemed to light up her face as she managed to color a portion of the picture without straying too far from the lines.
"Good job, Peanut," Mizuki praised, her voice soft and encouraging. Rose beamed up at her, proud of her small achievement. Mizuki's heart swelled with affection as she ruffled the little girl's hair, marveling at how quickly she was growing.
The quiet sound of Lizbeth shifting in the bed broke Mizuki's concentration. She turned to see Lizbeth watching them, a faint smile on her lips, though it was laced with discomfort.
"You're here again," Lizbeth said, her voice hoarse but filled with gratitude. "Thank you for always playing with Peanut, and for all the things you've done for us."
Mizuki's heart tightened. "It's nothing," she replied, though she could sense the deep gratitude in Lizbeth's words. She noticed the subtle discomfort in Lizbeth's expression, her body language stiff, as if she was trying not to feel indebted. Mizuki had seen it before—Lizbeth hated owing anyone anything. Mizuki understood that well.
She had learned the hard way in her previous life that Lizbeth's pride was something unyielding. Even when Mizuki had tried to give her money to help her start over after everything that happened, Lizbeth had refused, insisting on walking away without accepting a single cent. Mizuki had understood then, and she understood now.
Mizuki smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. Eugene told me you used to work as a secretary, right?" she said, shifting the conversation to something more neutral, to ease Lizbeth's discomfort.
Lizbeth nodded hesitantly, her expression unreadable. "Yes, I did. But..."
Mizuki gently cut her off, leaning forward a little, her eyes warm but steady. "And I need someone to be my assistant."
Lizbeth's eyes widened in surprise, her hands unconsciously clutching the edge of the bed. "Assistant? Me?" She blinked, as if unsure she had heard correctly.
Mizuki nodded. "Yes. It's no different from your previous task, though it's more personal. You'll be more like a manager, making sure things run smoothly, liek I don't die from starvation or lack of sleep, and there will be times when I need help with research. But mostly, you'd be helping me organize everything."
For a brief moment, Mizuki saw a glimmer of hope in Lizbeth's eyes, but it quickly dimmed. Lizbeth's gaze dropped, her face tightening as if trying to suppress some kind of overwhelming emotion.
"Why?" Mizuki asked gently, sensing the hesitation. "You don't like the idea?"
Lizbeth shook her head quickly. "I want to," she said softly, but the words faltered. "But it's not good for you."
Mizuki furrowed her brow. "Why not?"
Lizbeth hesitated again, her fingers fidgeting with the bedsheet. "Because... I have a child," she began, her voice low and filled with concern. "And it's dangerous."
Mizuki took in the words, understanding the unspoken fear behind them. Some employers didn't tolerate staff bringing children to work, and Mizuki could see that Lizbeth was worried about that—about her daughter being a burden. Mizuki didn't mind at all. In fact, she loved the little girl—Peanut, as she affectionately called her. Whether in this life or her past one, Rose had always been a joy to her.
She smiled softly, her voice reassuring. "Shawn Beck won't be able to find you or touch you if you work for me," Mizuki said, more to herself than to Lizbeth, as if making a promise. "I'll keep you both safe. No one will harm you."
Her gaze softened as she turned to Rose, who looked up at her with wide eyes, startled by the sudden change in Mizuki's voice. Mizuki smiled warmly, her heart swelling with love for the child.
"I'm a little princess with lots of knights guarding my castle," Mizuki said, her voice low and soft, almost as if she were telling a secret. She leaned closer to Rose, her smile growing as she spoke. "If you come with me, that ugly goblin won't find or dare to touch you."
Rose's eyes sparkled with curiosity, her tiny hands gripping the crayon a little tighter as if reassured by Mizuki's words. She beamed back, her innocence a gentle reminder of everything Mizuki was fighting for.
Lizbeth watched the exchange, her gaze flicking between Mizuki and Rose. There was a faint hesitation in her eyes, but it was clear that she was beginning to see the sincerity in Mizuki's offer. Mizuki wasn't just offering a job—she was offering protection, a new life, and a chance at something better.
Lizbeth exhaled deeply, and when she spoke again, her voice was a little more steady. "You really think you can protect us?"
Mizuki smiled, her expression warm but determined. "I won't just protect you—I'll make sure you're safe. No one will harm you again, I promise."
Lizbeth finally allowed herself to believe it, even if just for a moment. She nodded slowly, the faintest glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes.
Mizuki leaned back, satisfied that Lizbeth was beginning to feel some peace. She turned to Rose, whose small face lit up with a smile as she carefully colored within the lines of the picture. Mizuki's heart swelled with a tenderness she couldn't quite put into words. This moment, this simple act of teaching Rose, felt like the first true step toward healing for them all.
And for Mizuki, it was a promise she intended to keep—no matter what it took.