2.
He was a masterpiece of a man, as if crafted by a sculptor who had poured his entire life into the work.
His forehead, partially shaded by dark hair, was refined, and his flawless, pale skin possessed the cool luster of marble. His thick eyebrows and the sharp, elegant bridge of his nose looked as though they had been chiseled by a god.
His crimson lips were the final stroke, an alluring touch that breathed life into the statue.
But above all, it was his eyes that captivated me.
They were long and horizontal, holding a profound depth, and his irises shimmered with a mysterious, pure gold light. They were eyes that lent both an edge of danger and a sense of seasoned authority to a face that appeared to be in its early twenties.
For a moment, I stared, utterly bewitched by those golden eyes—faintly tinged with the vermillion glow of the night market.
The stare, which might have been perceived as rude, only broke when the man turned to the child to ask how to obtain freesias.
“Is there no other merchant selling them?”
The impatience lacing his voice made it clear he was desperate for them.
“Excuse me…”
I called out, cautious. The man’s gaze swiveled back to me.
I held out the freesia bouquet. “I don’t know your story, but you seem to need these more than I do.”
The man stared at the flowers for a few seconds before carefully taking them.
“I shall reward you.”
*Is he an aristocrat? He’s speaking to me informally at our first meeting.*
I didn’t particularly like his tone, but the favor was already done. I shrugged lightly.
“Then please, just buy me some other flowers to put in my vase instead.”
I didn’t expect a grand reward for a bouquet worth a few coppers.
“Would that suffice?” he asked, as if inviting me to name a higher price.
“Truly, a different bouquet is plenty.”
When I smiled brightly, the man ordered the child to wrap up all the remaining flowers on the stall.
“I don’t need this many.”
However, seeing the child’s joy at the unexpected windfall, I didn’t have the heart to protest further. *This should be fine.*
After thanking the man, I waited quietly for the child to finish.
“Here you go. I’ll put them in a basket so they’re easy to carry.”
The child neatly stacked the wrapped bouquets into a woven basket.
“Thank you.”
The basket was surprisingly heavy. After the man paid, he gave a curt nod and disappeared.
*He’s blunt. His clipped tone makes him sound like a soldier.*
I watched his back as he moved away, but only for a moment.
“At this rate, the pub will be closed.”
I headed toward the tavern, lugging the heavy basket.
*･☪D✶༄ ‧₊˚a⋰˚☆m✶༄ ‧₊˚
[My daughter is ill, so we are closed for the time being.]
“Wow, things really aren’t going my way today.”
I sighed at the notice on the door. Shivering, I clenched my fists to pray for the child’s recovery, then turned away with a weary trudge.
*Time to go home.*
I didn’t have the heart to search for another pub. “I might as well just go to sleep early.”
It was a bit of a walk from Rikel Street to my house, but doable. *Besides, a shared carriage wouldn’t be stopping for me anyway.*
I pushed through the crowd until I reached the quiet edge of Indar Street.
*I suppose not many people visit the cemetery on a night like this.*
The area was dominated by the massive Grizel Cemetery and a few modest apartments, escaping the worst of the festival’s chaos. In the distance, the green-roofed house where I rented a room came into view.
*First, wash up, then…*
Because the rent was cheap due to the “gravestone view,” if my shower time overlapped with other residents, the water would only trickle out like a dying spring.
As I checked my watch, a vaguely familiar figure emerged from a side alley.
*That freesia guy?*
It was the man from the flower stall. *I suppose he was on his way to Grizel Cemetery.*
He was holding the freesia bouquet and a boxed item from a toy store. It seemed that while I’d been waylaid at the pub, he’d stopped for a gift, and our paths had converged once more.
*He shouldn’t go in that direction.*
The road he was taking led to the main gate of Grizel Cemetery, which was currently under construction. *He’s going to have a wasted trip.* Since the cemetery spanned an entire street, it would take him forever to reach the temporary west gate if he had to backtrack from the main entrance.
*And there won’t be much time left to visit, either.*
I’d given up my flowers for him; I didn’t want his effort to be in vain. *I’ll just be a busybody one more time.*
As I caught up to him, I reached out to touch his sleeve.
He moved instantly.
Before my fingers could make contact, he seized my wrist.
“Ah!”
Held in his iron grip, I froze, feeling like a frog caught by a snake.
A moment later, he recognized my face and released me.
I rubbed my wrist, wincing. *That hurts like hell.*
He hadn’t seemed to use much strength, but the red imprint of his hand was already blooming across my skin. *It’s going to bruise.*
But since I was the one who had accosted a stranger in the dark, I couldn’t blame him. I pulled my sleeve down to cover the mark and forced a smile.
“We met earlier on Rikel Street, remember?”
It sounded like something a rake would say, which made my skin crawl, but I didn’t want the silence to turn awkward.
The man looked at my wrist and replied, “You gave up your freesia bouquet to me.”
Fortunately, he was cooperative.
* * *
Edwin watched Ri-Na’s wrist, which was already bruising.
*I was too sensitive.*
He scolded himself internally. The war he had left for immediately after his coronation had finally ended after eight years. The Regencia Empire was victorious. There was no longer a need to live in a constant state of combat-readiness, but old habits were etched into his bones.
The moment he sensed motion in his blind spot, he had moved to neutralize a threat.
But when he touched her, he knew. This was a wrist that deserved a pen, not a sword.
He had let go as soon as he realized she wasn’t an assassin, but it was already too late.
*The freesia girl.*
He recognized her instantly. He remembered her staring at him as if bewitched.
She was rubbing her wrist, trying to hide the pain. He could have broken bone with his bare hands—he felt a sharp pang of worry. She was neither an enemy soldier nor a knight; she was someone who should be protected, not broken.
While Edwin considered how to offer compensation, she pulled down her sleeve and spoke.
“We met earlier on Rikel Street, remember?”
“You gave up your freesia bouquet to me,” he answered, his voice devoid of emotion.
She smiled, appearing relieved, and glanced up at his face. “It’s not much, but are you on your way to Grizel Cemetery?”
Edwin’s brows narrowed.
When he had first ascended the throne, his beauty had been a liability. On the battlefield, it made him a target for mockery. To survive, he had fought at the front, acting with a cruelty and coldness that ensured no one would mistake his grace for weakness.
It had been a tiresome life. He grew to despise those who tried to flirt with him based on his appearance.
He weighed her favor against his natural irritation.
“This road only leads to the main gate of Grizel Cemetery, you see.” Sensing his coldness, she hurriedly added, “I stopped you because it’s under construction.”
Her voice trailed off, her gaze dropping to the pavement. “If you want to enter now, you have to go to the west gate.”
The scales tipped. Her kindness outweighed his annoyance.
“Thank you.”
When he offered the curt word of gratitude, she waved a hand dismissively.
“It’s nothing. I’ve said what I needed to, so I’ll be going now.”
Embarrassed, she picked up her basket and bowed slightly, ready to vanish.
“Wait.”
Edwin blocked her path. “That wrist.”
“My wrist?”
“Let me see.”
As he gestured with his chin, she hesitated, keeping her hand behind her back.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you trying to make me out to be a ruffian?”
Only after he insisted did she sheepishly extend her arm. It wasn’t fractured.
“I will tell you this—when the day breaks, go to the nearby temple. You need only state the name Everett Rohas.”
Edwin turned away, giving her his adjutant’s name.
He didn’t know then.
That the woman would believe his name was Everett Rohas.
And what that misunderstanding would lead to.