Chapter 9
“Did something bad happen, Your Grace?”
Melvin spoke carefully, watching Edmund’s expression.
“I just don’t understand—at all.”
“Understand… what, my lord?”
“What is that fickle woman really thinking?”
“But I heard you dined and even took a walk together.”
“We did. She’s acted for so long she must truly be insane now.”
Edmund’s crimson eyes stayed flat despite the bitter words.
“I never should’ve believed her nonsense about memory loss. I should never have shown her kindness! Hah… what a mistake.”
Bang! After a brief silence he slammed his desk. Melvin’s eyes shook.
“Kindness? Did the Duchess reject Your Grace’s goodwill?”
“Listen. She asked me to walk, then led me to the garden—the dying garden.”
“……”
“And then she gave me this.”
Edmund growled and opened his hand. Thud—a crumpled flower dropped onto the desk. Melvin let out a pained groan.
“This! What was the Duchess thinking…?”
“‘Go to hell’—that’s what she meant.”
Cursing softly, Edmund tossed back the ice water in his glass. The ice cracked with a sharp snap.
“What will you do now, my lord?”
Melvin licked his dry lips, asking cautiously.
“Do about what?”
“About… the Duchess. Will you just leave her be?”
“Maybe I’ll let her play her little game for a while.”
“At this point, I can’t believe anything the Duchess says. Nor Dr. Mars’s report.”
Edmund’s red gaze rolled, heavy and thoughtful. After a pause his lips parted.
“It’s not time yet. I still need her power.”
“But, Your Grace! If this continues, the plan could fall apart. There’s no guarantee she won’t run away again.”
Melvin’s outburst earned him a chilling stare. The aura swirling behind Edmund’s broad back felt lethal.
At the silent warning, Melvin clamped his mouth shut.
“The tasks I ordered—?”
“They need a little more time to be wrapped up perfectly.”
“Excuses, as always.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I will hurry—”
Edmund rose and walked toward the wall of swords, fingers drifting over hilts with slow deliberation, all while murmuring her name under his breath.
At the same time, in Cloen’s bedroom—
The door banged open and an exasperated voice filled the room.
“Ugh—Sasha! Water, please!”
“Oh? I thought you were walking with the Duke. You’re back already?”
Seething, Cloen gulped the offered water, then burst out,
“Seriously, what is wrong with that man? Is being handsome everything? Huh? Unbelievable!”
“Did something happen? You left in such a good mood…”
“What did I do wrong? We ate, drank tea, walked, I even gave him a flower! What’s his problem?!”
Sasha looked flustered by the one‑sided rant.
“Do you think I’m the problem? Tell me—what did I do wrong?”
Trying to stay calm, Sasha set down the teacup and breathed out.
“I can’t help if I don’t know what happened. Please, take a breath and explain slowly.”
“Fine. We went to the garden, right? And there was lavender—lavender!”
“L‑Lavender? Really?”
“Yes! It smelled and looked so nice, so I picked one and gave it to Edmund. And then—boom! He just blew up!”
“His Grace can be cold, but getting angry over a flower?”
“Told you!”
I slumped into a chair, replaying the scene.
I never imagined you’d insult me in this way—dragging me out here just for this.
Edmund’s voice was icy as he stared at the bloom, jaw clenched.
Was it your favorite flower? You should’ve told me—sorry for picking it without permission.
Right. I was a fool to trust you, Cloen Randolph.
Crack—the lavender stem snapped in his big hand.
What is wrong with you? If you cherish it, just say so! Talk to me!
Talk? How about you start being honest? Have you enjoyed mocking me with your ridiculous lies? Are you trying to force the word “divorce” out of my mouth?
He shouted, fists tight. Shame and anger blazed in his red eyes. I stood speechless, unable to grasp why a simple flower caused such fury.
Argh, why are you acting like this?
I thought you’d changed—turns out you haven’t at all.
That woke me up. If this kept up, he really might demand a divorce.
No way—no way!
At least tell me why! Edmund, don’t just leave! Edmund!
Only my angry voice echoed through the empty garden.
Hearing the story, confusion clouded Sasha’s face.
“What flower did you give His Grace?”
“Lavender.”
“There’s no lavender in the Randolph estate, ma’am. Maybe you mistook it for something else? Mori‑mori blossoms, or maybe mum‑mum tails—”
“What? It was right there!”
I scoffed and handed her the lavender sprig.
“Heavens! That’s—Hades bloom!”
Sasha recoiled in shock. Maybe she really has lost her mind, she thought.
I should’ve known something was off when the Duchess agreed to lunch.
“Hades… bloom?”
I blinked innocently, and Sasha shivered.
“Y‑You actually gave His Grace this unholy flower? It’s used only for funerals of the dead! My lady, are you trying to break with the Duke? And the memory loss—was that all a lie? Please be honest so I can help!”
While Sasha rambled, my jaw dropped. I stared at the supposed lavender.
Hades… So to the husband I must woo, I’d basically said go to hell.
‘I’m doomed… totally doomed.’
My mind went blank. What now? Sasha kept pleading for the truth.
“Maybe you did it for your father’s sake? But Count Elitern wouldn’t want this. Who knows what the Duke thought receiving such a flower—now I’m afraid any move you make will get us all killed—”
My ears rang from her chatter, and I feared actual bleeding. I focused hard.
‘Cry. I need tears.’
When reason fails, tug at the heart. Right on cue, fat tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Sob! It’s all my fault. I’ve hurt him. I—I deserve death…”
Inside, though, my brain raced on one question: Why in the world didn’t the original novel mention this blasted flower?
