She was foolish to be immersed in memories.
Rowell's footsteps trod on the dead garden. From beyond the shadows, she watched until the end as the garden instantly lost its life. Watched as her memories, the evidence that someone had loved her, disappeared completely.
Throughout the sight, Rowell's breath caught in her throat.
Why? Why was she reminded of the fire in Hessen here?
'This is just a memory.'
A memory that had been preserved, one that should have disappeared 10 years ago. It has now met its proper end.
Yes, that's all it is, but...
Why does that fact pain her heart as if it's being ripped out?
After taking a few steps, a red petal got caught on her toe. Rowell bent down and picked it up.
In the colorless garden, this petal that had been plucked early was the only thing red.
Soon, it too would meet no different a fate than this garden. But having fallen first, it alone survived the garden's demise.
Just like her.
This petal alone will prove that red roses once bloomed here.
This alone will prove that life once existed in this space, now withered to ashen heaps.
Only this...
'...me alone.'
A tear trickled down Rowell's cheek. She quickly wiped it away, but her cheek was soon wet again. Feeling the tears endlessly wetting her cheeks, Rowell broke into laughter.
She was being ridiculous, crying over a mere dead garden. Ridiculous for feeling a kinship with just a plucked petal.
The fact that she was shaken by a garden soon to die, that there was still lingering longing within her, that she had actually reconsidered revenge over such a flimsy emotion – that was so idiotically foolish!
'Yes, I was foolish.'
Peter's thoughts don't matter. The reason the Hessens had to be burned, her father's wrongdoings, the real truth – none of that matters. To wonder about such things now, how absurd a notion!
What reason could Rowell have to know the circumstances of the perpetrators, the reasons they had to do what they did?
'It's not like the dead will come back even if she knows.'
It won't make the unjustly lost lives any less flimsy, nor erase the over 10 years she has gone through!
Just the thought of facing the burned mansion from 10 years ago made Rowell truly suffocate, unable to breathe. No matter how much she thought about it, if there was anyone who deserved to die, it was Rowell, not the people of the Hessen estate.
She was ashamed of the years she had lived, waiting day by day for death. The time where everyone died while she pathetically clung to life was suffocating.
How would her unjustly k1lled family mock her if they saw her?
She had borne all the world's suffering alone, acting as if she would die tomorrow, but wouldn't they point fingers and jeer at her pitiful state of being the only one alive?
In her dreams every night, Rowell begged. She knelt before the burned estate and begged her family, the deceased servants.
To forgive her for being the only one alive.
And yet Rowell did not choose death. Unable to even muster the courage to think of her family, she pathetically survived by clinging to her memories with Peter.
And that Peter, the boy in her memories who allowed her to live, was the very target of her revenge.
That fact alone made Rowell a sinner once more.
If before, her sin was surviving alone, now every moment she recalled Peter to live became a sin.
By his mere existence, Peter made Rowell a sinner all too easily.
And she knew it.
'Again, I...'
Have become a sinner, unable to let go of these flimsy hopes.
Her hesitation was foolish.
The wry smile faded, and Rowell's face was far colder than before.
After exiting through Rene's shadow, she spoke.
"Rene, I have a favor to ask."
The black cat was already standing on Rowell's shadow. Rowell had the impression that the cat's golden eyes seemed to be smiling somehow. But whenever she thought of Rene, a smiling face always came to mind, so it was only natural.
She lightly dropped the petal she was holding, as if shaking off dust, and continued speaking.
"Bring me an item. Send it to Deborah's side, not Ruben's. She'll be lacking handmaidens."
At the description of the 'item' and Rowell's following words, the black cat's tail swayed slowly.
There was no answer, but none was needed. Rowell could read the affirmative signal simply from the shadow familiar vanishing in the blink of an eye.
* * *
Exiting the shadow familiar always brought a similar sensation.
An unpleasant feeling of being pulled out of a quagmire.
As Rene withdrew his mana, his vision instantly shifted from the imperial palace to the Martinek estate.
The silver-haired gentleman leaning back in the chair gave a faint smile the moment he realized he had fully returned. The servant guarding beside him spoke up.
"You seem to be in a good mood, master."
"Ah, Ruben. I've had quite a lucky day today. Such days are rare, you see."
He rose from his seat with a face that wouldn't seem out of place humming a tune.
Buttoning his vest that he had loosened to sit, putting on his leather gloves, ringing a small silver bell - the series of actions was as graceful as a nobleman's model.
Soon, there was a knock at the door. The one who opened it was a woman with her purplish hair cropped short.
"You called for me, Young master?"
Her name was Deborah. A servant who had followed Annette from Opherta after
Annette had saved her life. Now unemployed after Annette left for the imperial palace.
"Deborah, Annette is calling for you. It seems she needs someone to attend to her."
"Is that so? I shall depart at once..."
"Ah, eagerness is good, but there is an item you must take with you. Annette has requested you be sent this item specifically."
Annette's description of the item was simple. Just its location and one caution.
"She asks that you bring the red case in the third drawer to the right under the desk.
Do not examine the contents."
"Understood. If you permit it, may I depart immediately?"
"Of course. And give Annette my regards."
With Rene's permission given, Deborah bowed deeply before promptly exiting the room. Judging by her excited manner, it was obvious she would have stayed up all night craning her neck towards the imperial palace had he not allowed it.
Watching her retreating figure, a faint, inscrutable smile played on Rene's lips.
Over his gaze towards the closed door, the image of Annette he had just seen replayed.
[...Peter.]
That despondent expression. Tears endlessly streaking her cheeks, her face so stricken as if she might collapse and never rise again. Unable to even scream or shriek, instead breaking into helpless laughter.
In the end, Annette returned with her usual emotionless face, but in that moment,
Rene clearly saw the tangled emotions that had filled her entire being. And how dazzlingly despairing they were.
"Haha."
Rene let out a laugh. But it was nothing more than a dry vocalization. The smile on his face was a mere habit, and his eyes, the hand resting on the desk, simply followed well-trained protocol - everything was utterly tedious.
Perhaps he would never reach it in his lifetime. To laugh and cry with all his emotions like Annette.
Which is why Rene had no choice but to aid Annette.
For only Annette could show vivid emotions in his desolate world.
"..."
Rene seemed to contemplate something before withdrawing his hand from the desk.
Smiling like a child who had thought of an amusing prank, he spoke.
"Ruben, establish a connection to Grotesque."
She thought she needed to meet with them for a bit.
***
A few days later, in the Imperial Palace.
"Count Grotesque! Didn't I tell you, to trust me!"
Bang! Unlike usual, a high-quality teacup loudly clattered against the saucer.
The tea table that would barely make a clinking sound at any other time was different today.
For seated before it was Monique, far more excited than usual.
"What could have happened to make you like this, Your Highness the Crown Princess?"
Seated across from her was a middle-aged man named Karim Grotesque.
He was one of the few connections Monique had, publicly evaluated to have completely lost her standing, as well as the heir to the Count of Grotesque.
While others wondered why Karim indulged Monique's patronage, to Monique he was a quite useful person.
Give him a little trust and he easily spilled everything he knew. As bothersome as his constant chattering was, it wasn't too bad if one just endured it.
Of course, today was not much different.
"Your Highness urgently summoned me, but I've advised you not to believe rumors like that. Rowell Hessen is..."
"No! This is no mere rumor. I'm not an idiot, and do you think I'd trouble you to come and go over something like that? I've found the real thing, the real one!"
Monique was so excited that her reddened face could be glimpsed beneath her wrinkle-concealing makeup.
After saying that, she gestured for the maid behind her to bring something over.
It was an extremely luxurious velvet case. Too large to hold jewelry, yet too small to hold clothes.
As Karim eyed the case suspiciously, Monique waved her hand with a smile.
"Don't hesitate and open it, hurry!"
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