I Raised Snow White!

A pure white sheet of drawing paper lay spread out on the table.

I sat the princess on my lap, getting ready to draw on the paper.

The princess boldly held up a black crayon, but when it came time to actually draw, she hesitated, unsure of where to start.

“Princess?”

“…I don’t know what to draw.”

The princess stared intently at the blank paper, her lips slightly pouting in frustration.

I told her to draw something she liked, but she still seemed unsure of what to draw.

“Then, how about I go first? Something I like is…”

I took the black crayon from the princess’s hand and started drawing on the top right corner of the paper.

Although it wasn’t exactly my “favorite thing,” there was something that suddenly came to mind.

Not long after I first arrived here, I used to look down from the window and see a cat in the garden every day.

It was a fat calico cat with one gray ear and one orange ear.

“A fat cat!”

As soon as I finished drawing the cat on one side of the paper, the princess’s eyes sparkled as she shouted.

I patted her head approvingly, placing the black crayon back in her hand.

“Now, why don’t you draw something under the fat cat? Maybe something you like… How about cake?”

“Cake?”

“Yes, cake. Maybe a sweet whipped cream cake topped with fresh fruit?”

After a moment of thought, the princess seemed to make up her mind and began drawing lines on the paper with her crayon.

She drew a black triangle, then colored it in with a grayish white to look like whipped cream.

After adding a red, plump strawberry on top of the whipped cream cake, the slice was complete beneath the cat drawing.

I patted her head enthusiastically, praising her for her work.

“So, the princess likes strawberry cake?”

“Yes! And it’s not a cake, but I also like egg tarts!”

Excitedly, the princess picked up a brown crayon and began to draw an egg tart on the paper.

She quickly colored the tart crust brown and the egg filling yellow.

Before we knew it, the right side of the paper was filled with her drawings.

Without needing my suggestion, the princess began filling the rest of the paper with things she liked.

She drew green grass, then added red, yellow, and purple flowers on top.

She colored the sky blue and added white, fluffy clouds floating across it.

In no time, a childlike landscape painting was completed.

But…

There was no person in the picture the princess had drawn.

Pointing to the empty middle of the paper, I asked the princess.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have the princess in the picture, too?”

“Hmm…”

With a slightly pouty look, the princess reluctantly began drawing herself in the middle of the paper.

She added a red ribbon on her head and colored her dress blue.

Soon, the paper showed the princess standing in a flower field with a fat cat and various treats around her.

As I looked at the adorable picture, I couldn’t help but laugh.

Trying not to let the princess notice, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand, chuckling softly.

Meanwhile, the princess started drawing another person next to herself in the picture.

A woman taller than the princess, with blonde hair.

I quickly realized who she was drawing.

“Is that… me?”

“Yes, it’s Her Majesty the Queen.”

The princess proudly straightened her shoulders, perhaps thinking she had done a good job.

Indeed, she had captured the features well: blonde hair and green eyes.

The only issue was…

“Why do I look angry?”

“Well, Her Majesty’s gaze is a little scary.”

“……”

Looking at the sharp lines of green eyes sketched out on the paper, I was momentarily speechless.

I instinctively touched my eyes, but I had to admit that the sharpness I felt with my fingertips did match her depiction.

Feeling a faint, inexplicable pang of disappointment, I sighed softly.

Meanwhile, the princess continued drawing, adding yet another figure between the fierce-eyed “me” and the bright-eyed princess.

With blonde hair and green eyes like mine, I instantly recognized who it was.

For the princess to capture such detail with just hair and eye color…

Could it be that she actually has a talent for drawing?

As I tousled the princess’s hair with delight, I pointed to the small figure she had drawn.

“Is this Ainsel?”

“Yes! That’s right! It’s so sad that she’s always in the mirror…”

– The princess drew me..! We must preserve this masterpiece forever!

Looking down at the princess’s drawing, Ainsel’s voice trembled with emotion.

The large paper was now completely filled with drawings by the princess.

She proudly lifted the paper with both hands, as if to say she had done an excellent job.

A picture of me, the princess, and Ainsel standing in a flower field.

Looking at it, I felt a mixture of joy and a hint of sadness.

I had suggested that the princess include the King and the First Queen among her “favorite things,” but… neither of them appeared in her drawing.

I considered asking her why she hadn’t included them, but in the end, I held my tongue.

For now, I decided to be content that “her favorites” included me and Ainsel.

“Princess, how would you feel about having an art teacher?”

Thinking she might enjoy drawing as much as the King did, I thought to arrange a professional teacher for her.

But the princess shook her head, declining the offer.

Though it was a bit disappointing, I didn’t intend to push her into something she didn’t want.

I was certain the princess would excel in other things, even if it wasn’t art.

‘As long as it’s not dance, that is.’

And what if she has no talent?

Even without any, the princess would have no trouble living a comfortable life.

All I wanted was for her to live happily ever after, just like in a fairytale, without any tragic twists.

Watching the princess proudly holding up her drawing, I asked her.

“…Would it be alright to send this drawing to His Majesty?”

“…Yes, I want to show it to both Father and Mother.”

The princess nodded slightly and raised the picture high in the air.

“I want to show them how I’m doing.”

Her voice began to tremble.

“I’m sure… they must be worried about me, so…”

The trembling in her voice spread to her shoulders and chest.

Finally, the princess lowered the picture onto the desk, wiping her eyes with her hands as tears began to fall.

Her small sniffles quickly turned into sobbing.

Sitting on my lap, the princess turned and buried her head in my chest, maybe not wanting to show me her tears, or perhaps because there was no one else she could lean on.

I lightly patted her back and held her in my arms. With each comforting pat, she nestled deeper into my embrace as her sobbing grew louder.

Just because she’s young doesn’t mean she’s oblivious. In fact, children are often more aware of their situations and instinctively try to act accordingly.

The princess must have sensed it, too.

That neither the King nor the First Queen would truly worry about her.

That, in reality, her parents didn’t love her.

And though she may have never received that love, she still couldn’t let it go.

I gently stroked the princess’s back, waiting until she tired herself out and finally stopped crying. After crying for over an hour, she eventually drifted off to sleep in my arms.

Once I was sure she was asleep, I picked up her drawing and approached Bainshaw, who had been standing outside the door.

He had come to check on our lesson but, upon seeing the princess crying in my arms, had been awkwardly lingering outside.

“Bainshaw.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“When you take the paints to His Majesty today, make sure to include the princess’s drawing as well.”

“…Understood.”

Handing Bainshaw the picture, I carried the princess to her room, thinking, Please, just feel something when you see this drawing.

But… was I asking too much?

The next day, I would find myself regretting today’s lesson beyond words.

I would find it difficult to forgive myself.

*

The next morning.

With a glimmer of hope after hearing Bainshaw mention that the drawing had been taken to the King’s room, I made my way there.

I was eager to see if there might be any change in the King’s attitude.

Lost in a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, I soon arrived near the secluded room where the King was holed up. Just as I was about to turn the corner in the hallway, I heard an unusual commotion in the normally quiet space.

Could it be, really?

Was the reclusive King finally moved by the princess’s drawing?

Peeking around the corner, I looked toward the source of the noise.

My heart sank.

The two knights who usually stood guard outside the King’s door were awkwardly looking at the princess sprawled on the floor, unsure of what to do.

Unable to believe what I was seeing, I approached the knights to confirm.

As soon as one of them noticed me, his face turned pale, and he began to stammer out an explanation.

“Y-Your Majesty, w-we… we didn’t have time to stop the princess…”

Ignoring his attempt at an excuse, I went over to the princess.

She was sitting on the floor, carefully picking something up.

With her small hands full of colorful pieces, she stared down at them blankly.

Nausea rose in my throat.

Even if he didn’t care for his own child, did it have to come to this?

Wasn’t this just too cruel?

“Princess…”

I called to her, but she didn’t respond.

The princess, as if solving a puzzle, continued sorting the colorful pieces on the floor.

One by one, piece by piece, she tried to put back together something precious to her.

But with each torn fragment, it was becoming clear that putting it back together would be nearly impossible.

After comparing pieces a few times, she finally lifted her head and looked at me.

The princess forced a smile.

“Y-Your Majesty… I’m sorry… I guess Father didn’t like it… I should have drawn it better…”

“……”

“L-look at this… At least I managed to put the cat you drew back together. I-I can tape it back…”

Seeing her struggling to smile, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe.

My chest felt tight, and a choking sensation rose in my throat, as if my insides were burning.

I had never imagined that a parent could do something like this.

At the very least, I thought a lack of interest might simply mean abandonment.

But reality was even crueler and more heartless than I could have imagined.

The princess’s drawing had been torn into pieces, beyond recognition.

“Yes, once you finish a drawing, we’ll send it to His Majesty. Since he enjoys painting, I’m sure he’ll appreciate a drawing from the princess, too, don’t you think?”

What on earth have I done?

Did my faint hope for the King lead me to inflict an unforgivable wound on the princess?

While it may have been just a slight hope for me, wasn’t it her last hope for her father?

As I spiraled into a bottomless sense of despair, the princess tugged at my sleeve, as if to call my attention.

Looking down, I saw what she was pointing to.

Though barely, she had managed to piece together a portion of the torn picture.

Proudly, she pointed to the drawing on the floor.

A picture of the princess and me holding hands.

In that moment…

I felt something inside me snap.