Episode 3
The spire rose sky-high, its tip piercing the sky. With only one entrance that also served as the exit, there was no other way out.
At best, there were only a few tiny windows barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
“No.”
“I just want to deliver the flowers. It’s from Sophia—she really wanted her to have them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He said he’s only going to give her flowers.”
Just going in to see her for a moment wouldn’t change anything, and yet that damned visitation ban stood in the way like an iron wall.
Joshua’s hands twitched as if ready to clench into fists, but he held back his anger, aware of how fragile the flowers Sophia had wanted to give were.
“I…”
“Josh, that’s enough. They said no.”
Stopping at Benjamin’s restraint, Joshua let out a small sigh. He knew—taking one step back meant he would never see his mother again.
If the day came when he did see her, it would be her last day.
He was giving her up. His mother.
“I’ll leave the flowers here, so don’t let anyone touch them.”
“…”
“That much should be okay.”
He set the blue roses in front of the door. No one said it wasn’t allowed.
Joshua took a step back and quietly looked up at the towering spire. Benjamin, too, looked up beside him before dropping his gaze.
Covering his eyes with one hand and biting his lip, he tried desperately not to cry.
“How many days… do you think?”
Benjamin asked in a trembling voice.
How many days. How long would Chase—their mother—last in there?
“…We have to hope for a miracle.”
Like a blue rose.
Not long after, Chase came out of the spire.
Yes. Chase Sebiche could leave the spire.
The only despair was that it was after she had died.
Attending Chase Sebiche’s funeral were Benjamin, Joshua, the Sebiche family, and a few distant relatives.
They hadn’t expected Bled to attend, but it still made them angry.
Especially because the day before Chase died, he had attended Benny’s funeral—their mother who had died earlier.
Benjamin and Joshua bore their mother’s name. They did so to remember her, and to make him suffer whenever he heard their names—so he’d never forget what he had done to her.
They didn’t know how to face Sophia. Pretending not to know her seemed easier.
But they couldn’t.
That child—who had lost both her mother and Chase at once without knowing anything—was holding back more tears than they were.
She’d heard of Chase’s death only after Benny’s funeral had ended, and was now quietly staring into the garden the two women used to visit.
“You can cry, Miss.”
“I’m not going to.”
Despite Lorei’s concern, Sophia clenched her little fists and held back her tears.
“If I cry, they won’t be able to rest in peace.”
“Miss…”
“Mom told me… not to cry…”
So she wouldn’t cry.
Instead of mourning, she would say, I liked you. I’m thankful. And that she would always like them and always be thankful.
That kind of composure was something no five-year-old should have had—perhaps it had been passed down from Benny, who always seemed older than her years.
Moved by Sophia’s emotions, Joshua and Benjamin hugged her at once.
“Benji, Josh… I—I’m okay.”
“Yeah. Sophia’s okay, but I’m a little sad. I wish Sophia would cry with us.”
Benjamin whispered and closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheek.
“Sophia. Being strong is good, but pretending to be strong when it hurts you… I don’t think that’s good.”
His touch was rough, but paradoxically gentle as he stroked her head, and Sophia finally broke into tears. The death of someone you loved was unbearable—and trying not to grieve was impossible.
Lorei embraced all three of them warmly, wiping away her own tears in secret.
Even after that, Joshua and Benjamin stayed close to Sophia.
How could they hate her?
A child who wept so sincerely at Chase’s death.
But that thought didn’t last long. In the end, Chase’s death began to eat away at them.
When Sophia turned eight, she became completely alone.
The anniversary of Chase Sebiche Roberti’s death. The day before was Benny Ro Ransel’s death anniversary.
Chase’s grave wasn’t placed within the castle. She was buried on Sebiche land, so Sophia couldn’t properly attend her memorial.
After learning of what had happened that day, Sophia began quietly marking the anniversary by leaving flowers at the spire and whispering a few words. As they had told her—the fault was on her side.
Mother…
She wasn’t sure if it was fortunate or tragic that all her memories from before she turned twelve were blurry.
Sophia got up to honor Chase’s anniversary, then lay back down again.
It was still morning. The twins would be visiting the spire by midday, and she wanted to avoid crossing paths with them.
The twelve-year-old Sophia knew nothing of what had happened back then.
“The flowers…”
She looked around for something suitable to take. Her eyes landed on a vase nearby—inside it were the blue roses said to have bloomed through a miracle from the Flower Mage.
When night came, she clumsily took all but one flower from the vase, tied them together with a string, and formed a pitiful little bouquet.
The ribbon was terribly tied.
It always was. Sophia could never do anything right. Her lack of talent almost seemed like a talent in itself.
She normally wouldn’t have taken a lantern, but this time she did. She had fallen too many times on those dark paths before.
She didn’t want to get hurt again, so this time she prepared the lantern in advance.
Holding the flowers, she headed straight for the spire without hesitation.
Her movements, lit by the bright flame of the lantern, caught someone’s attention. Their gaze followed Sophia Benny.
“…Why is she wandering around right now?”
Beneath a star-filled night sky, surrounded by a forest bathed in deep blue shadows.
It wasn’t difficult to reach the spire, which pierced the sky like a raised sword. She didn’t get lost or fall thanks to the lantern, and she had long since memorized the path.
Standing before the spire’s entrance, Sophia gently placed the flowers she had brought at the base of the door.
They were pale blossoms that suited the night.
“…Hello.”
She didn’t know what to call her, so she left the title out. What had she called her before? She couldn’t remember.
As she looked around awkwardly, she noticed another flower beside hers. A blue rose, just like hers.
It must have been from Benjamin and Joshua.
Was Chase’s hair the same color as these roses? Or her eyes? Or perhaps… they were simply her favorite flower.
Even if she went to the portrait gallery in the castle, Chase’s portrait had long been removed. Sophia, who remembered nothing of the past, could only guess.
The twins hadn’t inherited any of their mother’s coloring.
“I’m sorry.”
She knew this wasn’t something she could apologize for. At the time, she had been too young, and even now, she didn’t remember any of it. She couldn’t even determine what the truth was.
She couldn’t say with certainty that her mother wasn’t capable of such things. Nor could she say she was.
But if there were people who remembered and pointed to Benny as the cause, then perhaps it was right for someone bearing her name to stand here in her place.
The dead wouldn’t want to see her anyway.
Letting out a shallow breath, Sophia picked up the flowers again.
“I’ll take them back. If they find out I came here, it’ll be a problem…”
Rustle…
Huh?
The sound of rustling grass caught her attention.
Was it the wind? That assumption was confirmed by a strong gust of wind that followed.
Her hair, tied by her own hands and not by Lorei, naturally came undone. There was no way the poorly tied ribbon could withstand the breeze.
She helplessly watched the black ribbon fly far away in the wind.
She wished her life could also fly away like that—beyond reach.
But of course, it never would.
“…It would’ve been better if I could’ve died.”
What was this regression, this cursed cycle that kept dragging her back and stopping her from dying?
A person should die when it’s time.
What was it that kept blocking her death?
Tying her hair had only led to these strange thoughts. Sophia sighed briefly and ruffled her hair even more as she turned away from the spire.
She would never return here again.
She wouldn’t hold onto guilt anymore. Today was the last visit, meant to let it all go.
Back in her room, having successfully returned without being discovered, Sophia curled up in her warm blankets and fell asleep.
In her sleep, she heard the door open. There were rustling sounds and quiet murmurs—probably the servants sneaking in to leave birthday presents.
She had told them not to bother. She didn’t want anything.
But now wasn’t the time to protest. She let her awareness drift, pretending not to notice.
And so, the unwanted morning of her birthday arrived.
