This story takes place in Bordeaux, where the lush green hills overlooked wine vineyards in spring, and the waters gently rocked against the golden laps of sand. Where the buildings were ivory presentations of majesty and looked back upon the arts of the past century the rest of France had forgotten.

To start it off, Bijou Legrand was about to murder someone.

He had been running his mouth into the paperwork for the past couple hours, pulling at his hair and watched as the numbers and inked letters danced in blurs. There was no sense in it at all, not the economics or the very real things that drove him mad.

But alas, that was the fate of the sole male heir of a company owner.

He cursed again, throwing hands. The view outside was marvelous, with the rare sunny days and calm, gentle breeze. Yet there he was, stuck to his desk.

Imagine a room with cold oxford coloring, packed to the brim with remnants of his childhood that Bijou's grandmother never threw away--a wooden rocking horse dusty in the corner, a miniature Eiffel Tower made of iron from the 1889's Exposition Universelle almost toppling off. It was dark and tight, and his desk was cluttered with papers.

He couldn't believe it.

"Hello...?"

Three raps on the door brought him out of his misery. He ran a hand through his hair, tipping his chair back to twist the knob, and was instantly killed by the cheery force that was Maëlle Legrand.

"Ma--Ack!"

Never tip your chair back like that.

He groaned on the floor, sprawled out with the chair under him. His elbow brushed with a blunt throb, his shoulders strained. All he could see was the barren ceiling, and her face peering down at him.

"Brother!" she chirped. Her little hands smothered his face. "Are you alright?"

"Just tired," he answered. He propped himself up slowly, clutching at the edge of the desk. "I'm fine."

She waited for him to sit, her golden hair woven with mud and dirt. It had been three days since they moved into the summer house, and Maëlle had found all of his old playing spots. The child had an adventurer's blood in her veins.

"You messed up your dress," he said, brushing twigs off her. "And is that a scratch?"

"It's just a scratch," she dismissed, swatting his hand from her face. She leaned forward, beaming from ear to ear. "I found something. Look!"

In her hands were lucky four-leaved clovers and small toadstools, red-capped and beautifully carved straight out of fairy tales.

Bijou squinted, picking up one toadstool in hand. "You can't go around picking random plants like that. It could be poisonous."

"But they're so beautiful."

"In the animal kingdom," he said. "Oftentimes the colorful ones are the most poisonous."

At least, that was what the books told him.

Maëlle gasped. "Is it poisonous? I found it in a box in the backyard."

"I'm not an expert." He put it back, giving her a gentle smile. "I must have put that box years ago. I think it's safe...since I'm not dead yet."

She cheered, happily bouncing on her feet. It warmed his heart that at least one of them was having a great time. She resembled their mother so much. "I'm looking for more!"

"Looking for what?"

A man stood at the door, all sharp angles save for the mustache on his face. You might think that looked quite comedic, but he was very much a serious person, thank you.

Hard lines made his jaw. His stormy eyes were wild when they gazed at the children. "Maëlle. Have you been playing out again?"

Bijou pursed his lips, fighting the urge to take his sister's arm and stand between them. But she--bless her soul--looked up without worry, showing him the knickknacks.

"I found these, Papa!"

Their father glanced at it with disdain, taking a step back to regard her whole appearance. "Ugh," he spat. "Is this how a proper young girl should behave?"

The poor girl was shocked, pouting lips turning down. The silence of the next seconds rang hollow.

His eyes flashed.

Young monsieur Legrand stepped in, pushing her out.

"Go bathe, Maëlle."

She turned, but he nudged her away. "I'll read to you my old stories later. Alright?"

She nodded, the ounce of joy back in the child's face. Oh, if only it was so easy to cure the sorrows of adulthood.

"Filling her head with utter nonsense."

"She's only five," he sighed. He stood up and propped his chair back in place, not looking in the eyes. "Give her some fun, Papa."

Before she had to be stuck at home, as he was. For utterly different reasons.

The sound of a knock took them by surprise. How convenient, for the doors to be tapped at the right moment.

Master Legrand stepped up to peek through the milky windows, turning to his son.

"It appears to be someone your age."

He groaned. Getting out of the room was nice, and he remembered Grandma's neighbors to be very kind but actually talking to someone...

"Bijou."

He winced. "Alright."

There was an arch in front of the house, twirled with vines and moss, framed by the sight through the bronze-lined trims. One might think they've stumbled upon a wedding ceremony, for the small, cream house spilled with aesthetics surrounded by a forest. But the greenery was interrupted by a tall young man at the door, wearing a simple shirt, opened to leave his chest bare.

He tried not to look, feeling conscious of the buttons at his white linen shirt. In contrast, he was still in his waistcoat, the only sign it had been worn for long being the wrinkles folded.

And still wearing gloves.

"Good evening," he greeted.

"Hello, there." The man grinned back. "Inocencio. Remember me?"

He did look familiar. With the curling dark hair and freckles scattered over his cheeks like stardust. But Bijou could not fully grasp his childhood.

"I'm sorry, I've been away for long...monsieur."

"Ah, it's fine." He nodded. He tapped on his fat stomach, pulling his chin to the left. "My family and I are there. The Degrados. Come over for meals sometimes, alright? Ma had been practicing her pies."

"That's lovely." Bijou Legrand never realized it, but he sounded monotone, like an unfeeling automaton. "Thank you for the offer."

When he closed the door, he swore he could have collapsed. Damn. What happened to being an adventurer, when he couldn't even talk to a stranger without panicking?

At least one of us still has Mama's spirit.

He was grateful, anyway, for the life he had now. Who needed friends? Only Maëlle mattered in his world.

He would never expect that to be snatched from him just like that.

Eii, what did I say about using 0 brain cells to write this? Did I clickbait y'all with the line that Bijou might be a murderer? 😉😜😉We meet the main character, Bijou Legrand, and his family!

Anyway, what do you think? Please vote if you like it. Don't be hesitant to engage, I'm always open for it :) And thank you so much for reading!