The banquet hall, once Viscount Clement and the Imperial Guard had departed, began to clear naturally. Count Blimond offered a formal, stiff bow to Count Bernas before disappearing into the mansion’s depths with a heavy sigh. Roselia, who had been staring blankly at the chaotic aftermath, finally shook herself back to reality and approached Count Bernas.
“Grandfather, how did you end up coming out here?”
“Do I look sick to your eyes, too?”
“No, it’s just that you look too well. That’s even stranger.”
Roselia asked with concern, recalling the bombshell the Count had dropped late into the night. “But what do you mean, guardian? Is it really okay to decide something like that so recklessly?”
“A soldier does not go back on his word.”
*Grandfather, you’re not a soldier anymore; you’re an old man with dementia…* Roselia swallowed the words that threatened to spill out and offered an awkward smile. Well, he would likely forget about it by tomorrow anyway.
Just as Roselia attempted to brush off the thought, Klaus strode over and bowed to the Count. Roselia’s eyes widened; she had never seen him bow so respectfully to anyone other than royalty.
“Count Bernas, it has been a long time.”
“Oh-ho, is that the young Duke of Baltezar?”
“I am the Duke now.”
“Hm? Has it already been that long? Then what about your father?”
Klaus’s expression grew cryptic at the mention of the late Duke, who had long since passed. It seemed the Count’s condition was fluctuating again. Fearing the rumor of his state would spread to his detriment, Roselia quickly interjected.
“Count! Aren’t you tired?”
“Now that you mention it, I am. And this is all your fault, you rascal!”
“Yes, yes, I’ll take you back to the mansion.”
With that, Roselia cast a sideways glance at Klaus and ushered the Count away. Closette, who had just emerged from the powder room feeling unwell, scurried after them, flustered by the banquet’s sudden dissolution.
“Wait? What? Antonio! I’m coming with you!”
***
With the culprit who had targeted Roselia caught, Closette and Roselia attended a tea party hosted by the Crown Princess for the first time in a while. Roselia, adorned gorgeously at the expense of Closette’s vanity, was a dazzling sight to behold.
The Crown Princess, watching her with the affection one might reserve for a younger sister, smiled softly. “I heard the news. You nearly had a terrible ordeal with those attackers.”
“It was nothing. Nothing serious happened.”
“Still, it is a relief that the mastermind was caught. To think that the elusive Rugvella was Viscount Clement…”
At the Crown Princess’s words, Closette interjected, chin held high. “I always found that woman unpleasant.”
As Closette—barely shedding her girlhood—spoke with a feigned adult expression, the Crown Princess chuckled. “Did Lady Closette have occasion to speak with Viscount Clement?”
“Just as a fellow woman, I could tell by the look of her that something was off.”
“It wasn’t just that you didn’t like the Viscount’s physique, was it?”
“Your Royal Highness!”
The Crown Princess teased, enjoying the time with the precocious girl, but Closette, feeling treated like a child, bristled. Both the Princess and Roselia burst into laughter at her reaction.
Just then, a shadow fell over them. “I hope I am not interrupting a conversation between ladies.”
It was Marquess Eucheliode, currently staying at the Imperial guest palace as part of the Laphelios delegation. At his sudden appearance, the women stiffened. The Crown Princess, who had recently been locked in a heated debate with him over the Imperial pact, showed a hint of caution.
Johannes observed them, then smiled and reached out a hand toward Roselia. He held a colorful bouquet of flowers, clearly picked from the Imperial gardens. “A gift to comfort you, as I am sure you have suffered greatly.”
“Oh my, it’s beautiful.”
Closette answered for her. Unlike the gushing Closette, Roselia received the bouquet with a dazed expression, looking at him in bewilderment. “Are these for me?”
“Is there anyone here who has suffered as much as Lady Roselia?”
At Johannes’s playfully inquisitive look, a soft laugh escaped Roselia. “Thank you.”
As she spoke, she smiled happily, inhaling the scent of the blooms. A smile gradually spread across Johannes’s face as well. Cecelia had loved flowers since she was a baby; it had been his mother’s daily routine to walk through the garden with her.
Suddenly, a breeze blew between them. Johannes’s eyes widened at the faint scent carried on the wind. This sweet fragrance did not come from the flowers. It was the distinct aroma of one who carried the blood of the Laphelios lineage.
Johannes’s gaze shifted to Roselia. The Crown Princess and Closette seemed to feel nothing—as expected. The scent of a Laphelios bloodline acted like pheromones; it was barely noticeable to the same sex, but easily sensed by the opposite sex. Furthermore, it intensified with strong emotions. Perhaps there hadn’t been a notable fragrance before because she had lacked any significant emotional change.
With this, he was nearly certain: Roselia was indeed Cecelia. His gaze turned into a mysterious mix of endearment, longing, and joy.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Unaware of his thoughts, Roselia tilted her head in confusion. Seeing that gesture overlap perfectly with the young Cecelia, Johannes’s heart swelled. Then, a new worry arose. At this intensity of fragrance… the time for her blooming was not far off. If she had not learned how to control it, it could be dangerous. He had to be by her side when that time came.
While he steadied his resolve, a petal carried by the wind landed in Roselia’s hair. Johannes slowly reached out. “Lady Roselia, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
He brushed the petal from her hair, and as he smiled kindly, Roselia felt a sudden, shy warmth. Perhaps it was just the effect of a handsome man’s smile…
While the two were lost in their own thoughts, someone else nearby was watching. Klaus, on his way back from reporting the construction progress to the Crown Prince, stood in the corridor, staring blankly at the garden.
Watching the two smile at each other, a creeping annoyance twisted his gut. A bitter anger flared within him, fueled by the sight of her bright, cheerful smile—the very expression she had never once shown him.
*What on earth is this foul feeling?*
Overcome by an emotion he couldn’t name, he balled his hand into a fist, tightening it until the veins stood out.
***
As Antonio, Roselia visited Count Bernas as she did every day for tea. She poured a cup, carefully observing his face. “Grandfather. About you becoming my guardian…”
She carefully broached the subject, setting the teapot down. “Did you ask for the young Count’s opinion?”
The Count wrinkled his brow in displeasure. “Why should I need permission from that rascal?”
“But he is the successor to the Count’s estate.”
The Count snorted and took a sip of his tea. “If he doesn’t show up at the mansion within three months, I intend to strike him from the family register.”
Though he spoke harshly, Roselia knew it was just talk. The Count, possessing a soldier’s temperament to his bones, was secretly proud of his son, even if he never showed it. Yet, with the young Count in the Navy for the better part of the year, he was undeniably lonely.
Just then, Closette, for whom visiting the Count’s estate had become a daily routine, spoke up excitedly. “Look at this! Isn’t this better than last time?”
Painting, originally a tactic to stimulate the Count’s mind, had become Closette’s hobby. She had set up an easel in the drawing room, and her skills were improving daily.
*Could it be… that Closette actually has a talent for this?*
As Roselia marveled at the painting, the Count glanced at it from a distance. “You’ve gone from painting with your feet to at least painting with your hands.”
Despite his prickly remark, Closette puffed out her cheeks. “Hmph…”
The Count lazily got up and limped toward her. “You used too much paint here. And doesn’t the vase stand out more than the flowers? You need to use more color on the flowers so they are the focus.”
He snatched the brush and tapped away, scribbling, yet the painting transformed beyond recognition. Closette stared in a stupor, eyes full of admiration. “Wow… Grandfather, you’re good!”
The Count looked startled, then asked back as if he had just learned a new fact. “Me?”
“Yes! It looks much better now.”
“…”
The Count fell silent, lost in thought. Then, as if annoyed by something he couldn’t quite remember, he grumbled, “I’m hungry. Prepare a meal.”
“Grandfather! Antonio is not a servant of the Count’s household!”
Despite the protest, the Count, indifferent, suddenly looked at Roselia with wide, startled eyes. It was as if he were seeing her for the very first time.
“But why is a girl like you wearing a man’s clothes?”
In an instant, Roselia and Closette froze.