Beautiful long silver hair spilled naturally down her back, and her amber eyes shone with a jewel-like brilliance.
She was a petite girl.
She looked only eleven or twelve, dressed in a long black uniform dress with a capelet of the same color draped over her shoulders.
Although her clothing was more solemn than luxurious, anyone with sufficient discernment could still recognize her as a young lady of noble birth from the details of the fabric and the matching gemstone on her red bow.
Even without such discernment, however, that was not difficult to understand.
After all, though she wore understated clothing suitable for travel, the girl exuded an arrogance at odds with her youth.
It showed both in her chin, which remained slightly raised, and in the legs extending from beneath her skirt, clad in sheer black tights and crossed casually over one another.
Under the hazy light, her stockings carried a faint, peculiar sheen.
Such a casual, poised gesture might have held a mysterious allure and stirred the imagination on a slightly older girl, but on this girl, it served only to express her forceful personality.
It was an arrogance that utterly disregarded both the solemn atmosphere of the carriage and the dangers implicit in the Mystic Eyes Collection Train.
That was the first impression the girl deliberately sought to convey, but anyone well versed in psychology could still recognize, from the defensive way she had kept her arms folded since entering the carriage, that she might not be as strong inside as she appeared.
That was indeed the case. Upon spotting Roland, the girl's lovely, black-stockinged feet inside her brown leather boots immediately shifted and planted themselves on the floor as she stood straight up, as though startled.
"Roland!-why are you here?!"
Roland?
That somewhat unfamiliar name