Chapter 68
‘Hup.’
I held my breath as I inhaled the scent.
It resembled a perfume from a certain brand I had longed for in my previous life.
The day before my interview for a temporary teaching position, my younger brother had suddenly handed me that perfume.
“I spent some money on this.”
He had grinned, reeking of cool detachment, and left my room—but secretly, it had touched me.
I pressed down the tears threatening to spill and quickly pulled my face away from her small palm, forcing a bright smile. If I spoke first, my trembling voice would surely make my tears flow.
“Doesn’t it feel like walking barefoot along the beach in a linen dress?”
I nodded.
“It’s called Christ Earl. I sometimes brewed it into tea. With him.”
Marguerite carefully tucked the petals into her pocket and patted it with satisfaction.
“Roses have different meanings depending on their colors.”
“Do they?”
At my curiosity, she smiled and began explaining at once.
“Yes. Red means desire, passion, joy, beauty, climax. Yellow roses, like these Midas Touch ones, mean jealousy, perfect achievement, and a decrease of love.”
“Decrease of love?”
“That’s why you have to be careful if you’re given yellow roses. The love you trusted might leave you. And these pure white Iceberg roses mean respect, the flower of light, purity, innocence, charm.”
“I see. It’s like the color of a wedding dress. You’re really interested in roses.”
“It’s not me. He’s the one who told me. Pink, like this petite and lovely Eleanor, means vows, simplicity, happy love.”
Her gaze drifted back to the roses.
Ha, these roses must have stirred her memories.
That’s why she’d been staring blankly at the garden the moment she saw them.
“Wow, a rare blue rose. Blue roses mean ‘the unattainable, achieving the impossible.’ As expected of the late Empress.”
Blue rose. Its meaning resembled my own world. ‘Impossible.’ In our world, blue roses were made by dyeing white roses. This was because roses lacked the gene to produce delphinidin, the pigment that makes them blue.
Even in my world, only recently had this been achieved; yet the late Empress had done it within a few years. The landscape gardener who’d bred them had said so with pride.
“In the myth I know, if you offer a blue rose to God, your wish will come true. Shall I give you one?”
“….”
At my suggestion, she looked quietly at me.
If she met God, what would she wish for?
Would she ask for her beloved to be returned?
And if I met God, what would I wish for?
When I first fell into this world, of course, it would have been to return to my own. But now, it was different.
“Well. You could throw a tantrum to get the impossible, but lately I’ve grown suspicious.”
“…!”
Ugh, isn’t that a dangerous thing to say?
This Empire is a nation of faith, after all.
“Still, today feels blessed. It’s hard to see all of his favorite flowers gathered like this at once. That Tea-O-Drop there was his most treasured. He seduced me with an orange rose, saying it meant ‘shyness, first love’s confession.’ Hmph.”
“He sounds like a cute man.”
“Yes.”
Her smile ached in my heart, so I widened my eyes and pushed my forehead back toward my hairline.
As a third party, I couldn’t afford tears.
This was their moment alone.
And yet, my own past memories were surfacing one by one.
We were both being shaken by the surge of our memories, but we endured it calmly.
This sudden wave of longing, too, once the moment passes—
It leaves.
It drifts away like the cool river breeze wafting now,
Fades like dust under May’s warm sunlight,
Evaporates with the sweet scent of roses dancing in farewell.
But when it comes again, we’ll laugh or cry, won’t we?
This place resembled the rose garden at a famous amusement park I’d visited with my family as a child. But here, it was Schlesien Castle, built in the Demon Realm of the Beatria Empire. My current home.
“Countess Marguerite.”
When I called her, she turned back shyly.
“Please just call me Meg, not Marguerite.”
“Meg?”
“Yes, Meg.”
“I’m honored, to be allowed your nickname.”
“I’m the honored one. For Her Grace the Grand Duchess to call me so familiarly.”
“Then will you call me Sing, too?”
“Oh, that would never do, Your Grace.”
“I want us to be friends, Meg.”
“…!”
“I don’t have any friends.”
It was true. Sinclair had no friends. And I myself had never made a friend since coming here.
She looked at me. I grinned and extended my hand toward her.
“In some cultures, they shake hands to commemorate becoming friends.”
Meg hesitated, then finally took my hand. It was the first handshake I’d ever shared in this life as Sinclair, not Kang Joohee.
“Sing, have you chosen your ball gown?”
“Ball gown?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t the ‘Demon Realm Victory Commemorative Subjugation’ event about charging into the Demon Realm to hunt monsters to celebrate victory?”
“On the first day they also hold a grand party with a ball.”
“Ah, right.”
I had heard that. But I’d only retained the part about the grand party and cohabitation, letting the ball slip past my ears.
In my mind, the ‘Demon Realm Victory Commemorative Subjugation’ was a new-concept, new-civilization launch show at Schlesien Castle with the logo ‘Theodore’s Gift,’ a social venue to make friends for Archduke Theodore.
Yes, a social venue?
Then of course, beautiful clothes were essential—people are swayed by appearances.
And they had said there would be a ball, hadn’t they?
Oh my god, how could I forget that? I must be out of my mind.
I’m ruined. What use is staying up three nights making sweet sugar powder to lure the children?
It’s the noble ladies who must be charmed so their purses open.
Am I a fitting ‘celebrity’ for my business name, ‘Theodore’s Gift’?
On looks and body alone?
And considering I’m the only Grand Duchess in the Empire?
It might be possible.
But before marriage I’d never entered high society. Now I was the lady of the Caricas estate—the despised Demon Realm in the Empire.
Haah… a sigh escaped me.
And no matter how I searched Sinclair’s memories, the only dancing she recalled was a solo dance at her wedding.
Locked in a room, abused—why would Michael have taught her dancing?
I’d only just learned how to walk like a noble, for heaven’s sake.
Tears welled in my heart again.
I’d have to consult Marguerite at the gazebo about dancing and dresses.
But—
Someone had hung a screen around the gazebo entwined with rose vines.
What’s this?
I stopped walking. No one had reported putting up a screen here.
Then—
A man emerged from behind the screen.
“Sir Jangrella?”
“Countess Marguerite?”
Marguerite’s voice rose an octave as she called him. The man smiled broadly, removed his hat, and bowed.
“To behold Her Grace the Grand Duchess in person—I’m at a loss for words. I’m Jangrella of the Navia Dress Salon.”
He was dressed in colors as vibrant as spring. A white silk hat, a lace-fluttering white blouse with a cobalt vest adding dignity. His pants were pleated at the waist, tapering to the ankle in pink pegged trousers, exuding a subtle androgyny.
“I heard you never take commissions except from the Empress. What brings you here?”
“How could I refuse an order from Schlesien Castle, the only one of its kind in the Empire?”
“To think Her Grace is preparing so much—I’ll get to see the finest salon dresses today.”
Marguerite turned to me with an excited voice.
“How did you get in here?”
Cold words slipped from my mouth. But Jangrella tilted his head and smiled shyly.
“It’s a secret.”
“A secret?”
“The one who commissioned me wished it kept secret from Your Grace.”
I narrowed my eyes and looked down at him.
“They’ll be here soon. Please wait a little.”
“Oh my, for His Grace to prepare such a thing—he really is a romantic.”
Marguerite’s eyes narrowed and her lips curled up.
I could not smile like Marguerite.
Should I believe this man’s words?
Of course, Gerald was a master of surprises. He’d said not a word even when building the lab and library.
But this was different. This was an outsider entering the castle.
As I stared at him suspiciously, a cold blade touched Jangrella’s neck.
“Oh my!”
Pale as a sheet, Jangrella fell back on his bottom.
The hand holding the blade belonged to Gerald.
Gerald pulled me behind his back with one hand. Looking around, I saw knights had already surrounded the screened area.
‘This wasn’t Gerald’s event!’
Then Gerald’s action was right. My heart pounded hard.
The screen was torn down roughly, and the knights dragged out the employees hidden inside, seating them beside Jangrella. They all trembled, heads bowed.
There were quite a few of them.
Gerald pressed the tip of his sword harder against Jangrella’s neck.
“Who are you?”
“I—I’m Jangrella of the Navia Dress Salon.”
Jangrella’s body trembled violently.
“Who sent you?”
Gerald pressed his sword harder. A thin line of blood welled up. Jangrella’s jaw quivered; no words came.
“….”
“Do you want to die?”
Gerald’s voice was as cold as ice. The blade pressed harder into his neck. Bright red blood trickled down.
“Speak at once!”
Gerald’s emerald-green eyes glinted like sunlight on glacial ice. Jangrella’s shoulders shook like aspen leaves.
