Chapter 3 —
It seemed he had dozed off for a moment.
Deer slowly opened his eyes and sat up. As he did, the jacket draped over his shoulders slipped to the floor with a soft thud.
It was probably another knight who had come to drop off documents and kindly covered him with it.
Picking up the fallen jacket and hanging it over the chair, Deer glanced at the document he had been working on.
A completely blank sheet. Only a single drop of black ink had fallen onto it.
A sign that he’d tried to write something, yet the moment he attempted to put it into words, his hand froze and hesitated.
“…This is hard.”
As soon as he whispered the words out loud, the weight on his shoulders seemed to multiply.
His lips trembled slightly.
It had been a long time since he’d dreamed—this time of the day his father passed away, at the ceremony where he inherited his title.
Even then, Deer had shrunk back, overwhelmed by the status forced upon him.
Greedy eyes bearing down on a boy who hadn’t even reached adulthood.
And the greatest among them belonged to the Emperor—his uncle—whom he was bound to swear lifelong loyalty to.
Perhaps, deep down, he’d expected something.
That he would comfort him… embrace his grieving nephew.
But those eyes—those cold, stiff, contemptuous eyes—were enough to plunge the affection-starved boy into despair.
He had dreamt again, after so long.
Rolling the pen between his fingers, Deer stared blankly at the sword hanging on the wall.
The ceremonial sword decorated with gold, diamonds, rubies, and opals. The one he had received from the Emperor upon being knighted.
Beautiful, but dull-edged.
He never doubted it was meant to symbolize him.
And he wasn’t the only one who knew it.
Long before he received this dull blade, he had tried desperately not to sharpen his own. But no one believed him.
He was constantly doubted and watched.
By the Emperor, by the nobles, and by the Crown Prince.
His own cousin, who called him “brother, brother” with a sweet smile, though Dier knew all too well that this was not his true nature.
He knew…
And yet, he could not escape.
That was why he was so exhausted.
No matter what he did, nothing changed.
“…The flower is in full bloom.”
Deer withdrew his gaze from the sword and tapped the coral-colored peony on the corner of his desk.
He hadn’t picked it; someone had left it in front of his office that morning.
Other knights made a fuss, saying the vice-captain had seduced yet another young lady, but in truth, Deer felt nothing.
He didn’t particularly like flowers.
But he knew that the butterfly garden near the knights’ building was in full bloom. Sometimes the scent drifted into his office.
He didn’t know which garden this peony had come from, but…
One flower wouldn’t hurt.
Unconsciously smiling, he brushed the soft petals. They were smooth and tender.
When he thought of his estate, the duchy, not much came to mind.
His time in the capital had been far too long by comparison.
He felt sorry for Zen, who frequently traveled back and forth, and a little ashamed before Elliot, who managed both mansions.
The servants there probably didn’t even follow their absent master anymore.
Still, it was his real home. He would have to return.
Setting down the peony, Deer picked up his pen again.
This time, the sentence he had hesitated over ended swiftly with a period.
— I hereby resign from the position of Vice-Captain of the Imperial Knights. I request His Majesty grant me permission to return to my duchy.
He had never once acted on impulse or personal emotion since becoming alone.
But this time… it felt like he could allow himself this one thing.
He had not expected an ambush.
He wasn’t sure whether to admire the perpetrators’ audacity or pity their desperation.
The knights who were with him had probably escaped safely. They must have already aligned themselves with certain nobles.
Well, he wasn’t angry about it.
He knew the world ran on profit and loss.
He had no desire to demand chivalry from them. Though it still felt somewhat disappointing.
Even the wind brushing his nose was different from the capital.
Dry, hot summer air.
His silver eyelashes, heavy with moonlight, trembled, then lifted slowly.
His dazed, dreamy gaze soon regained focus.
Deer raised a hand and touched his wound. Instead of wet skin, his fingertips brushed against rough bandages.
He let out a small, hollow laugh.
“…That woman.”
His quiet voice sliced through the darkness.
Serious once again, Deer retraced what had happened.
The moment the arrow hit him, he knew—they’d used poison. It was a miracle he’d slipped out of their sight at all.
While his consciousness was fading fast… that woman had appeared.
Normally, he would have questioned a stranger approaching him, no matter how dire the situation.
But he had let her touch him, let her put her lips to his wound to suck the poison out—without resistance.
Even now, he didn’t feel suspicious.
The reason was simple.
“Rita.”
He knew exactly who she was.
Margaret, the owner of the house where “Rita” lived, ran the local bakery.
She was warm-hearted inside and out, treating Rita like her own daughter.
So when Rita told her she’d brought home an injured man she’d found in the forest, the first thing Margaret did was worry.
“Rita, are you hurt too? You said you sucked out the poison! Something terrible could’ve happened! Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes, Margaret. I’m fine.”
“What if you got poisoned too? It’s good you saved him, but that was far too dangerous. You must take care of yourself.”
Rita felt oddly embarrassed by the praise.
She had only followed a simple folk remedy anyone in that situation would’ve used.
“I only did what I could. If it had been too much, I would’ve run.”
Avoiding Margaret’s fussing gaze, Rita gave her a reply woven with half-truths and spooned up some chicken stew.
Margaret really was astonishingly good at cooking!
With skill like this, she could’ve run a restaurant instead of a bakery—though her croissants had been divine when Rita tried them.
Thanks to her cooking—and her kind personality that never pressured her guest—“Rita” had stayed healthy.
Still, Rita wasn’t Margaret’s real daughter, and she couldn’t keep burdening her forever. She needed to become independent soon.
Planning her next steps, Rita downed the last of the stew when Benny burst through the open door.
The red-haired boy who’d helped her before.
After greeting Margaret politely, Benny tugged on Rita’s sleeve.
“The man you brought last time woke up! And the first thing he did was ask for you!”
“…Me?”
“Yes! And he’s a noble, right? Wow, I’ve never seen a noble before!”
With sparkling eyes, Benny pulled her toward the clinic.
Even if she was his savior, Rita hadn’t expected to be the first person he looked for. A noble would normally send word to his family first… wouldn’t he?
And she hadn’t visited since the first day.
Unsure how to respond, Rita gulped down the remaining broth and followed Benny.
When they opened the door, the sharp scent of herbs filled the room. The physician, busy sorting herbs, nodded in greeting.
While Rita greeted him back, Benny drew back the curtain.
There he was—sitting up, completely fine.
The physician had said the poison was mild and that he’d recover quickly, but still, this was impressive.
As expected of the man who was probably the main male lead…
“…?”
His freshly washed silver hair glimmered as if dusted with starlight.
The moment Rita saw it, a line from the novel flashed in her mind:
“His silver hair sparkled like starlight even in the darkness.”
His violet eyes, now clear and luminous, were even more striking.
She’d seen they were purple before, but then they had been clouded by pain—she hadn’t noticed the brilliance.
Another line flitted through her thoughts:
“His violet eyes shone more beautifully than the finest amethyst.”
And then, the line that tied it all together:
“Deer Melinger, Duke of the Empire, was the most beautiful man in the realm.”
“…”
Why—why hadn’t she realized?
Was his face that much of a wreck before?
Was there that much blood and dirt on him? Enough to hide this level of beauty?
Rita stared at him, stunned, mouth hanging open.
Unable to bear the silence, he finally spoke.
“…Rita?”
He was Deer Melinger—the second male lead of The Flower Blooming Before the Altar, Rita’s favorite character.
The “flower-deer” she had cried about endlessly in the comment section.
<Today’s Flower Language>
Peony — Bashfulness
