Names were such ordinary things in this world. Even the souls treated as objects at auction houses had names bestowed upon them.
Yet she was like a forgotten corner, possessing only a cold code name, as though her existence in this world were utterly insignificant.
A pang of bitterness rose in her heart. Those who had once beaten and kicked her had mercilessly called her a "monster" and a "freak."
Such experiences had filled her with vigilance and wariness toward everyone around her, like eyes abandoned by the world, catching faint traces of light in the darkness.
Wriothesley fell silent for a moment, gazing at the catgirl's somewhat pale face as an indescribable feeling flashed through his heart. After hesitating briefly, he revealed a smile of understanding and kindness.
"How about I give you a name?"
Wriothesley's voice was low and gentle, as though stirring something soft and fragile within her.
"Really?!" The catgirl's eyes instantly lit up, her black-and-white cat ears trembling lightly in the breeze and revealing her joy.
At that moment, irrepressible delight appeared on her face, like the first flower blooming in spring. She developed a strange trust in this unfamiliar "good person," and deep down, she vaguely sensed that he would never hurt her that way.
Wriothesley smiled faintly and gently looked her over. The more he looked, the more this catgirl resembled a vague image in his mind.
"Let's call you Lynette." Wriothesley thought of the siblings who performed street magic in Fontaine and blurted it out.
Though they were from the House of the Hearth, those siblings were admittedly quite interesting.
At this moment, the catgirl—no, more accurately, she was now called Lynette.
Her heart was filled with warmth. Being given a name felt as though she had regained her identity and found