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The Lord’s Castle of Count Kraus House, being an elder house that has existed since the founding of the Empire, holds countless anecdotes reflecting its long history.

Isilia Pavilion, built in the same era as the Lord’s Castle, also has many associated stories, the most well-known being the origin of its name, Isilia.

It is an annex named after the first lady of the Kraus family, Isilia Kraus.

Thus, this place has been used by the mistresses of the Kraus family for generations, and despite numerous renovations over the long years, traces left by the past mistresses still remain in various forms.

The flower garden we now wander through is one such trace.

This garden is one of the remnants left by Arwen Kraus, the mother of Damian and Alphonse, and the lady of the Kraus family at the time. The scent of hyacinths wafting from a corner of the garden evokes memories of her.

While it used to be a garden I frequently walked with my mother in my childhood, since her departure, hardly anyone from our family visits this place anymore, except for me who comes occasionally. My father hasn’t been to Isilia Pavilion even once since my mother left, and for some reason, Alphonse seemed reluctant to step into Isilia Pavilion.

So, when I walk here, I am always alone.

The garden is kept clean by the servants, but they probably don’t have the luxury to appreciate the place leisurely as hired help. Once their duties are done, they hurriedly rush out of the garden, leaving me as the only visitor.

However, a new guest has graced this garden after a long time.

Her beautiful appearance combined with the flowers behind her makes it seem like a painting.

Elena gently took my hand and moved slowly as I led her.

The garden is a space for enjoying flowers.

As long as we are standing in that space, words between us were unnecessary.

As we walked slowly, I noticed the changing flowers in each area and inhaled the gradually shifting fragrances. The clear spring sky was blue, and the sight of flowers swaying in the cool breeze brought peace to my heart.

Walking together like this felt a bit different from my usual solitary stroll. The scents felt different from those I normally experienced. It felt as if a once empty side was being filled, a sense of unknown fulfillment surged within me.

Perhaps it was because it had been a long time since I walked this street with someone. I tried to brush away my ticklish heart and the instinct trying to creep out bit by bit, then I looked at Elena.

At that moment, the hyacinths blooming behind her were the same purple as her eyes.

Her figure seamlessly blending with the flowers sometimes sweeps one’s rationality far away.

I had felt it multiple times, but she truly has an unrealistic appearance. Is this what it takes to be the protagonist of a romantic fantasy?

I wondered when she had fallen into the picture the world displays, as she was now gazing at the world with calm eyes different from when she first entered this place. I quietly turned my head to look in the same direction as her.

There was a scenery that no painter could capture.

It was quiet.

The chirping of birds and the buzzing wings of bees became muffled in that verdant world.

For a while, we decided to stand still and observe.

How many minutes passed thereafter, a breeze blew from somewhere, moving the clouds and hiding the sun.

As the shadow draped over the land, we began walking again, as if we had made a silent promise.

*

As we exited the garden, her mood had completely relaxed, transforming back into the Elena Edelweiss I had first met. Her calm eyes resembling a tranquil lake and her seemingly indifferent expression were exactly as I had imagined Elena while reading the novel.

But why does she seem so new?

That figure must be the Elena I know, but why does she feel unfamiliar? Upon reflection, the Elena I had encountered here had been the smiling Elena, the crying Elena, or the embarrassedly blushing Elena.

No, it’s not like she’s an entirely different person; why is she so diverse?

Remembering this, I realized that my internal image of Elena Edelweiss had become quite muddled.

But that didn’t mean my head was in a state of confusion like before.

“Elena.”

“Yes? Damian. Why are you calling me?”

“No. I just wanted to call out.”

Her face brightened with a smile in an instant at my question. Upon seeing that, it finally felt like things were back in their rightful place.

A sense of inexplicable satisfaction crept up, and my lips upturned unconsciously. Elena tilted her head, seemingly confused.

If only settled endings could easily change like her expression. It’s just unfortunate that it does not. Yet, perhaps due to the different actions of Elena compared to the original story, whether my heart has lightened or I’ve fully let go and accepted it, it felt more at ease compared to the time I was just agonizing over things.

“How was the garden?”

“Oh, it felt quite different from looking at it here. Thank you, Damian, for allowing me to have this experience.”

“After all, flowers are meant to be seen in a wide, open space rather than a cramped room. One can’t fully encapsulate nature within something artificial.”

Elena smiled softly and nodded at my words.

The maids Ken and Elena brought seemed to have stepped away and were nowhere to be seen.

Well, Ken is one thing, but what was her name again… Hailey? In the original story, I remember her as someone who, while constantly threatened by Damian, hid Elena’s abuse, only to end up playing a role in reporting him at the end.

Most likely, those two had edged away to give Elena and me some privacy.

Since I intended to escort her anyway.

I, still feeling the lingering emotions, spoke to her as she gazed at the garden outside.

“The weather is quite nice.”

“Indeed.”

“Shall we go out again sometime?”

“…A basket.”

“?”

“Let’s pack some desserts in the basket before we go.”

No more sweets… They’re bad for your health.

But Elena is a magician, so she would manage somehow.

I nodded at her suggestion.

“Yes. Then let’s also bring a mat. It looks like it will be clear for a while, so it wouldn’t be bad to go a little further. Sarham has many scenic spots.”

To my words, she pouted a bit.

“When it comes to scenery, Merohim is no less…”

“Well, that may be true. But if we sit on a mat there, we’d freeze to death.”

Merohim. That place has a climate akin to the Polar Bear country.

When it snows, it snows heavily enough to build castles out of it. Thankfully, the Edelweiss family is adept in magic; if we were like a martial family in that place, we would have perished long ago unless we had ample resources.

“Let’s definitely do it in Merohim one day. Sitting on a mat over ice wouldn’t be bad either. But for now, let’s continue exploring Isilia Pavilion.”

It was more important to survive in a 500-year-old castle than in the Arctic.

*

“Who’s this?”

“She is our mother.”

Elena stood before a portrait hanging on the wall, asking. Although there were other portraits hung in a row beside it, she correctly pinpointed the portrait of Arwen Kraus.

Since Isilia Pavilion served as the home for the mistresses, the portraits of the past mistresses were displayed here. Therefore, it was not surprising that the portrait of our mother, Arwen, was among them.

In fact, it was not astonishing that Elena identified Arwen’s portrait specifically. She had already met someone who resembled the woman in that painting once.

I picked up a white cloth that lay on the floor.

It must have been the cloth that covered mother’s portrait.

Father had sent all items related to mother to Isilia Pavilion. All the things painted with mother except this portrait. The reason her portrait was covered by a white cloth among all in this place was likely to avoid seeing mother’s face when coming here.

It wasn’t that father hated mother.

He simply loved her so much that just seeing her face made him shed tears.

But why was this cloth lying on the ground? If a servant had made a mistake, they should have replaced it; why didn’t they? No servant could be unaware of the covered portraits in Isilia Pavilion.

The reason soon became clear.

“Uh… Hyung…”

“Alphonse.”

A child emerged from the room filled with mother’s belongings.

A boy who looked just like the woman depicted in the portrait.

 

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