Rowan, known as the head of the Veil Merchant Guild, was a striking beauty with short, vivid pink hair and an energetic aura.
Despite her cute appearance, she was infamous in the business world as a “witch”—a ruthless negotiator who never hesitated to crush her opponents to get what she wanted.
But what most people didn’t know was that Rowan was, in fact, just an employee. The true master of the Veil Merchant Guild remained hidden behind the scenes.
Having been sent to a remote rural estate like Kleene for some reason, Rowan brushed her bangs aside with an irritated sigh.
“Seriously? I thought you were finally getting back to focusing on your actual job.”
In the small room of the tavern where she had rushed after receiving a message, she found a man sitting awkwardly and a silver-haired woman sleeping soundly with her head resting on his shoulder.
At Rowan’s words, the man with black hair and crimson eyes—Dante—snapped defensively.
“I didn’t make her drink. I didn’t make her cry either.”
“Sure, sure.”
“I mean it! She was already like this when I got here.”
Rowan shrugged.
“Sure, sure.”
“… You’re messing with me on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Wow, only just catching on?”
Rowan burst into a cheerful laugh. Had it been anyone else, she might’ve had her doubts—but not with Dante.
‘Of course, he kept up that iron wall of his.’
This was Dante Christopher—the Black Wing of the Imperial Knights, the pride of the Empire.
He had inherited his ducal title at the tender age of twelve. With no one to rely on, he had grown into a relentless workaholic, living such a grim, austere life that not even a single romantic rumor ever dared touch his name.
‘But guys like him… they’re the ones who fall hardest when they do fall in love.’
Rowan grinned to herself. The day Dante fell hopelessly in love, she’d tease him tenfold more than today.
Amused by the thought of messing with her superior, Rowan walked over to Yvonne with a joking tone.
“Oh my, she must’ve cried a river. Her eyes will be so puffy by morning.”
She gently wiped Yvonne’s face with a warm, damp cloth. Rowan had been too focused on teasing Dante to notice earlier, but now that she saw properly, the girl looked very young.
‘And stunningly beautiful.’
Her face was pale and translucent, like fine paper, framed by hair that shimmered like strands of silver silk. She was so beautiful, she looked almost unreal, less like a human and more like a work of art.
Clicking her tongue softly, Rowan asked,
“What could’ve broken the heart of such a lovely young lady enough to drive her to drink like this?”
Dante, turning his face away to the opposite side of Yvonne, replied curtly,
“Her fiancé cheated on her with her best friend.”
A common story—but still infuriating. Rowan gently swept Yvonne’s silvery hair to one side and muttered,
“Whoever he is, he must have no eye for beauty. To cheat on such a stunning young lady…”
The soft strands slipped smoothly between her fingers, untangling without resistance. As she idly played with the silky hair, Rowan turned to glance at Dante.
“But this face, this hair—it’s exactly the look Your Grace’s been searching for, isn’t it? Though we don’t know the eye color yet…”
“Her eyes are pale green.”
“Oh? Then that settles it!”
She was exactly the type they had been looking for.
Dante gave a heavy nod.
“…Yes. When she wakes up, I plan to ask her. To help us with our work.”
“Hmm.”
Rowan let out a thoughtful hum. Even if the appearance matched perfectly, the real problem came next. It was the kind of task one had to risk their life for—would she really agree so easily?
‘Let’s hope she does. I’m so sick of searching for a silver-haired, green-eyed beauty. And His Grace can’t even focus on his duties properly because of it.’
Working alone was unfair! Sure, it was expected for the owner to work like a dog—but why did someone like her, who was just a paid employee, have to do the same?
‘Ugh, I’m at the end of my patience. If this keeps up, I’ll end up wearing a wig and pretending to be the Former Crown Princess myself.’
Rowan grimaced at the thought. Just then, Dante spoke in his usual heavy tone.
“… The woman we’re looking for—wasn’t she supposed to be a fairy?”
Rowan blinked at the sudden words and corrected him with a bright smile.
“Not a fairy, a half-blood. It’s said there was fairy blood somewhere in her lineage.”
“Then do you think she can use magic?”
“Ancient fairies were known to be skilled with magic, sure. But nowadays? Who knows? And she’s only half at that… She might be able to use it, but I wouldn’t expect anything powerful.”
The truth was, there weren’t even proper records about fairies left anymore. Nobody really knew for sure.
Rowan shrugged indifferently as she answered. Dante handed her a handkerchief.
“Take a look at this, Rowan.”
With a ‘What now?’ expression, Rowan turned to him, and her eyes widened.
“Wow… Your taste has changed, Your Grace? Since when did you start using such ornate handkerchiefs?”
The handkerchief was embroidered with clusters of vibrant marigolds, so intricate and vivid it could’ve been mistaken for a painting.
‘Did the ducal house always have such skilled needleworkers?’
When Rowan tilted her head in confusion, Dante asked in a low, meaningful voice.
“Do you think a person embroidered this?”
“Who else would it be, if not a person? But… it is incredibly intricate. Looks like the work of a master artisan—you’d have to pay a fortune to hire someone this skilled.”
As expected. Dante gave a heavy nod, then added in a quiet voice.
“That handkerchief was embroidered with magic. The needle moved on its own, even without any thread.”
“… What?”
Rowan’s head shot up, startled. Dante answered her with a grave expression.
“I think we’ve found the real one.”
* * *
Father had been sick for a very long time. Lately, I hadn’t even been able to see his face. Whenever I said I wanted to visit him, the adults around me would just smile awkwardly with troubled expressions.
〈His Majesty will recover soon, Princess. Please be patient, just a little longer.〉
I didn’t want to make anyone sad, so before I even realized it, I stopped asking for my father—or my mother, for that matter.
I just quietly prayed.
That Father would get better. That Mother wouldn’t cry anymore.
And then, that day came, suddenly and without warning.
That night.
The night I lost everything.
〈Petuanis, please… please protect my daughter!〉
It was the first time I had seen Mother in a long while. She placed me on the back of a massive dragon, tears streaming down her face, and draped a knitted shawl over my shoulders.
〈My dear child… I made this while thinking of you. I had dreamed of staying by your side for a long, long time, of creating everything for you with my own hands. Your first lace gloves… your debutante dress… not just this little flower-patterned shawl…〉
Diamond-like tears spilled from her large green eyes, so dazzling, so unbearably sad.
〈You must be happy, my daughter.〉
It was a night from long ago—a memory lost in time, now too faded to clearly remember.
* * *
When I opened my eyes the next morning, I’d never felt my eyelids sting so badly before.
‘What’s going on?’
I rubbed at the skin around my eyes with both palms, the sting like that of a scraped knee.
‘I… I can’t open them properly.’
I wanted to think—just think—but my head throbbed like needles were stabbing into it.
“Can I get some water…?”
I called out weakly, looking around for a maid, but then a blunt voice echoed from beside the shower.
“After a good sleep, you should feel refreshed.”
“No. I feel awful…”
I replied instinctively, then froze.
The voice—it didn’t sound familiar at all.
Startled, I scrambled to the corner of the bed, clutching the blanket to myself.
“Gasp?! Wh-Who are you?!”
He was a tall man with sharp features. A broad forehead and a faint frown gave his eyes a cold intensity. His slightly tousled black hair, firm jawline, and thick forearms came into focus one by one as I stared blankly.
When our eyes met, he nodded in my direction.
“Shouldn’t you be the one introducing yourself?”
“S-Sorry? What?”
Why was I supposed to introduce myself?
As I blinked, still unable to grasp the situation, a woman with pink hair standing beside him stepped forward, a light-hearted smile on her lips, and cut in.
“With someone growling like that at her, how could a delicate young lady possibly respond?”
‘And you are…?’
I looked at her with puzzled eyes. She simply shrugged and said,
“Nice to meet you, miss. I’m Rowan from the Veil Merchant Guild. Judging by your appearance, would I be right in guessing you came in response to our job posting?”
“Yes, that’s right!”
My memories started to return, one by one.
I had come after hearing that the Veil Merchant Guild was looking to hire someone with silver hair and green eyes like mine, then ended up drinking beer out of spite.
‘Ugh… So this is what a hangover feels like? Just how much did I drink?’
I held my forehead and groaned softly. Even as I did, the two of them continued waiting patiently for my answer. I quickly opened my mouth to speak.
“I’m…”
But no further words came out. I hesitated, worried that if I told them my name, they’d realize I was the woman engaged to Emil Kleene.
‘They might not know since they’re not from the Kleene territory, but still…’
If they did know, wouldn’t they wonder? Why would someone who’s about to get married be snooping around job offers like this?
‘If the Countess hears about this somehow, I’ll be in real trouble.’
As I stayed silent, only mouthing words without speaking them, Rowan’s expression began to cloud with suspicion.
“Are you… on the run or something?”
“No! I’m not!”
On the run? I’m not into anything like that!
