—Ethan's POV, Garden—
The soil beneath my knees is cool and damp, clinging lightly to my gloves each time I press my fingers between the stems.
I carefully pluck the weeds growing along the flower bed, pulling them out from the root. I loosen the soil first, press my fingers around the base, and gently tug until the roots slide free.
A small smile forms on my lips.
"There," I murmur under my breath. "Now you can bloom better."
Once the bed looks clean, I gather the scattered weeds into a small pile and carry them away.
I wipe the dirt from the trowels, shake the loose soil from the rake, and return each tool to its proper place inside the shed.
By the time I leave the garden, I am carrying a few pieces of equipment back from the shed. The metal edges knock softly against one another with every careful step I take across the path.
A few minutes later I left the garden, while carrying some equipment back from the shed, one of the maids calls out to me.
"Ethan!"
The sudden call makes my shoulders jolt.
My foot catches against a small uneven patch of stone, and for one terrifying second, the tools in my arms shift dangerously to one side.
"Y-Yes?"
I turn toward the voice, trying to keep my balance, and the moment I see who called me, my back straightens on instinct.
Madame, The head maid stands a short distance away.
'Oh, it's Madame.'
"W-Woah—!"
The tools nearly slip from my grip, but I quickly tighten my hold and plant one foot firmly against the ground. I manage to steady myself.
Madame rushes closer, concern written clearly across her face.
"Oh my, Ethan you should be careful."
"ahahaha... I'm sorry."
Madame lets out a soft sigh, though her expression does not look angry. She studies me for a moment, perhaps making sure I am not hurt, before giving a small nod.
"There are a few chores that need an extra pair of hands. Can I trouble you?"
"Yes, Madame."
I let out a cheerful smile.
I begin doing the chores Madame asks me to do.
I clean the windows in the corridor facing the garden. Some of them are placed higher than I expect, maybe one of the reason why Madame asks for my help in the first place.
I dip the mop into the bucket, wring it with both hands, and guide it across the hallway in steady strokes. Water glides over the polished surface, carrying away dust and faint footprints left by servants moving from one wing to another.
'She said she likes how squeaky clean the floor is whenever I clean it.'
'Helping the other servants whenever they need an extra hand is also one of my to pass time.'
From one hallway to another, I look for anything I can help with. A maid struggles with a heavy bucket, her arms trembling from the weight, so I quickly step forward and carry it for her. Another servant tries to balance folded linens piled high enough to block her sight, so I take half of the stack and walk beside her until we reach the storage room.
"Ethan!"
"Yes!"
Someone calls from the kitchen.
"Ethan, can you bring this to the laundry room?"
"Yes!"
Someone needs help lifting a crate.
"Ethan!"
"Yes!"
No matter where the voice comes from, I find myself answering with the same eagerness.
By the time the sun slowly turns strikingly bright, I find myself outside again with a broom in hand. The stone path leading toward the South Wing has gathered leaves, dust, and loosened petals carried by the wind. I sweep them into neat piles, guiding everything toward the side of the pavement.
The leaves rustle against the broom, dry and crisp beneath the bristles. The scent of greenery lingers around me. Grass, damp soil, leaves warmed by the sun, and flowers blooming somewhere nearby all mix together into something fresh and calm.
—Few hours later—
Several hours pass in that same rhythm of chores, footsteps, voices, and small moments of work.
By the time Madame finds me again, the light has begun to soften.
"My, my. Dear Ethan, you really are such a wonderful child."
I turn around with the broom still held in both hands.
Madame smiles warmly and reaches out to gently pat my back.
"Whoever becomes your wife in the future will surely think of you as a blessing."
My face warms so quickly that I nearly drop the broom.
A small, awkward chuckle escapes me.
Madame eyes soften before she turns away, already walking toward another duty waiting for her somewhere inside the estate.
I quietly glance toward the sky.
"…I think it's time."
I leave the South Wing and head toward the garden the wind greets me.
The wind brushes against me as the trees begin to sway.
The scent of flowers follows with it.
I gulp softly as my eyes adjust to the bright afternoon light.
There, among the flowers, Lady Velora sits peacefully with a book resting in her hands. Her eyes move quietly across the page, calm and focused, as if the world around her has faded into nothing.
Her eyes flicker gently as she emerge in the book she's reading.
As if lost in time, not caring a flower petal fell down her red hair.
I smile before step closer carefully.
When I reach her side, I gently lift my hand and remove the petal from her hair.
Her eyes rise from the book.
For one breath, our gazes meet.
I immediately step back and bow.
"I greet Lady Velora."
—Kel's POV, Velora's room—
The hallway is quiet when I pass through as I head towards Velora's room.
Near the corner, I see Ethan walking from the opposite direction.
For a brief moment, our eyes meet.
He bows first.
I return the gesture with a small, proper bow of my own, and we both continue on our separate paths without a word.
Yet as his footsteps grow softer behind me, I find myself looking back.
'He grew taller.'
The thought settles in my chest more heavily than I expect.
Ethan is my farthest cousin. Our connection is thin enough that most people would not consider it important, but blood is still blood, even when distance, shame, and silence try to bury it.
I do not know everything that happened to him.
He once said he would never carry his last name. Not as the child of a mother that is a commoner. Not as the bastard son of a count. He spoke of it plainly, as though the matter had already been carved into stone long before he learned how to hold a sword.
I quietly watch the end of the hallway where he vanished.
I turn away and continue walking toward Lady Velora's room.
"Since Lady Velora will return later, I should finish tidying up her room first."
I stop before the door, lower my head out of habit, and carefully open it.
Everything smells faintly of polished wood, linen, and the lingering fragrance of flowers arranged near the mirror.
I step inside and close the door behind me.
I begin with the shelves.
I dust each level carefully, lifting books and ornaments one by one rather than wiping around them.
I clean the edges of the shelves, the carved legs of the small table, and the frame of the mirror.
Once that is done, I move toward Lady Velora's drawer and polish the small stones displayed there. Some are smooth and pale, others darker with faint streaks running through them like veins. I use my earth element to cleanse them gently, as the dull color begins to shine brightly as light begins to resurface. Small scratches begins to disappear.
"Good as new!"
I smile brightly as I observe the gems.
—plop—
"?"
My gaze shifts toward the vase beside the mirror.
A flower head has fallen from its stem.
I reach for it slowly.
The moment I lift it closer, a faint fragrance touches my senses.
The shape of the petals. The scent. The arrangement of the bloom.
A delicate scent lingers, like jasmine touched with warm honey.
"This is... an Oleander flower?"
"What was a poisonous flower doing in Lady's room?"
Thoughts races through, uncertain whom may leave a poison nearby, harmless in touch but poisonous when consumed.
I throw away the whole vase and start to disinfect the whole room.
Thoroughly.
I wipe the table where the vase stood. I clean the mirror frame, the drawer handles, the surface of the vanity, and every nearby object that may have been touched. I replace the cloth once it feels contaminated and continue with a fresh one.
'I must tell this to Erisa later.'
I move toward the windows and begin cleaning the frame, inspecting every corner as I work.
The door opens behind me.
"Oh."
I turn slightly.
Erisa stands at the entrance with freshly washed clothes folded neatly in her arms.
"Good day, Erisa!"
She bows with her usual gentle smile, while carrying the newly washed clothes.
I continue cleaning the window.
—Erisa's POV—
The hallway carries more voices than usual.
As I walk, I listen without appearing to listen.
That is one of the first things a maid learns in a noble estate. Keep your head lowered, your pace steady, your hands occupied, and your ears open. Servants speak while passing one another. Small bits of news travel with trays, linens, letters, and tea carts. A noble house is never truly silent. It only pretends to be.
Two maids whisper about the morning chores.
I take a glance on Lady Velora across hallway as I walk away.
Young Master Rey has been moving about more often than usual.
Ethan has been helping the servants again, taking on tasks beyond what most would ask of a boy his age.
The estate continues to move, every person walking along their own thread.
I walk toward the room at the end of the hallway.
My steps slow before I open the door.
The portrait watches over at the very end of the room in still silence. Her painted eyes are gentle, touched with the grace as if time itself stop.
I gaze at it gently, longing.
"Duchess…"
I lift my hand and press my fingers lightly against the engraved name beneath the portrait.
Reminiscing memories.
I bow my head with care before continuing on.
A door closes softly behind me.
—Thump—
The sound echoes through the hallway.
I keep walking, passing by Duke Lucien's office.
From inside, I hear the faint turning of pages.