"Did something unpleasant happen?"
Melvin, who had been watching carefully, spoke up cautiously.
"I have no idea. None at all."
"No idea about…?"
"What on earth is that fickle woman thinking?"
"Didn't you dine together and even go for a walk on good terms?"
"We did. But after keeping up this act for so long, I must've truly gone mad."
Though his crimson eyes sank bleakly, his voice remained oddly calm.
"I shouldn't have believed her. I shouldn't have humored that nonsense about losing her memory! Ha… I showed kindness for nothing."
Bang! After a brief silence, he slammed his fist down on the desk. Melvin's eyes shook rapidly.
"Kindness? Don't tell me the Duchess rejected Your Grace's goodwill?"
"Listen. She suggested we take a walk and led me to a flower garden. A garden where everything was withering."
"..."
"And then she gave me this."
A crumpled blossom fell onto the desk from the duke's hand. A strained groan slipped through Melvin's teeth.
"This is—! What on earth was the Duchess thinking…?"
"She was probably telling me to go to hell."
"Damn it." With a faint smile, he tipped back the glass of ice he was holding. Crunch, crunch—the ice shattered with a sharp, crisp sound.
"What do you intend to do now?"
Moistening his dry lips, Melvin asked carefully.
"About what?"
"Are you going to… leave the Duchess as she is?"
"It might not be so bad to play along with her wishes for once."
"At this point, I can't bring myself to believe the Duchess's claims. Nor can Doctor Mars."
His darkened red eyes rolled silently. His heavy gaze lingered for a moment before his closed lips parted.
"It's not time yet. I still need her power."
"But, Your Grace! At this rate, the plan could be disrupted. There's no guarantee the Duchess won't leave the estate again."
At Melvin's outcry, the duke's chilling gaze turned toward him. The aura rippling behind his broad back felt threatening.
Under the silent warning, Melvin pressed his lips shut.
"The matters I instructed you on before?"
"It seems we'll need a bit more time to settle everything completely."
"You always have excuses."
"My apologies. I'll hurry as much as—!"
Edmund rose from his seat and walked toward the back. Clink—the hand selecting a sword moved slowly.
All the while, his lips murmured over and over, "Chloe. Chloe."
At that same time, in Chloe's bedroom.
The closed door burst open, and an irritated voice rang through the room.
"Ugh, Sasha! Can I get a glass of water?"
"Huh? I thought you went for a walk with His Grace. You're back already?"
Clenching her lips, Chloe fumed as Sasha hurriedly handed her a glass of water. She gulped it down in great swallows and let out an angry breath.
"What is wrong with him, seriously? Is being handsome everything? Is that all it takes? Honestly, the nerve!"
"Did something happen with His Grace? You seemed to leave in such a good mood…"
"What did I even do wrong? I ate with him, had tea with him, went on a walk with him, even gave him flowers. What exactly is his problem?"
As she poured out her complaints, Sasha's face showed clear discomfort.
"Do you think I'm the problem too? Tell me. What did I do wrong?"
Despite the one-sided barrage, Sasha tried to remain calm.
"Whew…"
She set down the teacup she had been holding.
"You need to tell me what happened so I can understand. First, calm down and explain it slowly so I can follow. Then I can help."
"Listen. We went to the back garden. And there was lavender. Lavender."
"La–lavender? Lavender?"
"Yes, lavender! It smelled nice and looked pretty, so I picked one and brought it to Edmund. And then—ha!—he suddenly got angry!"
"Well… His Grace can be cold and distant, but… you handed him a flower and he just exploded?"
"That's what I'm saying!"
After answering shortly, she paused, recalling the moment she had placed the lavender in Edmund's hand.
"I didn't think you'd go so far as to insult me like this. Even making the effort to come all the way here."
He had stopped walking with graceful poise, speaking in a flat tone. His eyes were fixed on the flower he'd received, but his jaw was tightly clenched.
"Was it a flower you cherished? You should've said so. I'm sorry—I shouldn't have picked it carelessly."
"Right. I'm the fool. The idiot for believing you."
Crack—the lavender stem snapped in half in his large hand.
"What are you doing? It was a perfectly fine flower! Why would you—? You could've just said so! If you treasured it, you could've just said you treasured it!"
"Say? Did you just say 'say'? Chloe Randolph, how about you start being honest first? Have you enjoyed mocking me all this time with your ridiculous lies? Is this your goal—to push me until the word 'divorce' comes out of my mouth?"
Edmund shouted, clenching both fists. The eyes of the Duke of Randolph trembled violently with humiliation and shame.
Something was wrong. The devastatingly handsome man before her was clearly under a massive misunderstanding—but she had no idea what, and that was just as frustrating for her.
"Ugh, this is suffocating. Why are you suddenly acting like this?"
Beating her chest in exasperation, she demanded again,
"If I've done this much, if it's come to this! Shouldn't you be the one to accept reality by now? How long are you going to keep living as the noble, only daughter of Elitern?"
Bang! Edmund slammed his fist hard against the innocent wall and trembled. Facing his cold, sunken red eyes, I somehow couldn't bring myself to say anything. I merely bit down hard on my tightly sealed lips as a heavy silence lingered between us.
What on earth was the problem? All I did was give him a pretty flower. I kept turning the unsolvable question over and over in my head.
'I thought he'd changed at least a little… but not at all.'
Edmund's words snapped me back to my senses. At this rate, I might really end up being divorced.
No. That can't happen! No!
'What is your problem?! At least tell me why before you leave! What am I supposed to do if you just walk away, Edmund? Hey!'
Only my furious voice echoed through the empty back garden. No one was there to hear it.
After hearing the story, Sasha's face filled with confusion.
"What flower did you give the Duke?"
"Lavender."
"There's no such flower as lavender in the Randolph estate, my lady. Are you sure you're not mistaking it for something else? Like mori mori flowers or mum-tail grass…?"
"What are you talking about? It's right here."
With a small scoff, I handed her the sprig of lavender I had picked.
"Oh my goodness! Th-that's a Hades flower?!"
The moment she saw it, Sasha gasped and stumbled backward. A thought crossed her mind: Maybe it's not that she's lost her memory… maybe something is really wrong with her head.
She should have realized it from the moment her lady—who would rather die than share a meal—said she would attend luncheon together.
"A Hades flower?"
Seeing her mistress blink innocently as if she had no idea what was going on, Sasha began to tremble.
"D-don't tell me you gave this unholy thing to the Duke?"
"Unholy? It may look like this, but lavender smells wonderful."
"Ha… Are you really planning to separate from the Duke?"
At the absurd question, my energy drained away. Why was everyone so obsessed with divorce? Irritation slowly bubbled up inside me.
"I said no! I have absolutely no intention of separating from him! What is wrong with you people? Is lavender really that big of a problem?"
"My lady! This isn't lavender—it's a Hades flower! An impure flower used only at the funerals of the dead! Please, be honest with me. What you did today—you did it on purpose, didn't you? To make the Duke angry. And losing your memory… that must be a lie as well. Please tell me your true feelings. I want to help you."
Unlike Sasha, who kept rambling on, I couldn't even close my gaping mouth. My eyes darted down to the flower in my hand.
Hades, Hades… So what I'd effectively done was toss a "go to hell" bouquet at the husband I was supposed to be carefully winning over.
'I'm doomed… I'm so doomed.'
My mind went blank. What was I supposed to do now? At that moment, Sasha—still trying to coax me into confessing—continued.
"You must have your reasons for acting like this. Is it because of your father back in your homeland? But Count Elitern wouldn't have wanted this either. I can't even imagine what the Duke of Randolph must have thought upon receiving that flower… From now on, whenever you say you're going to do something, I feel like I'll panic first. At this rate, I might not even live out my natural life—!"
Suddenly, it felt as though my ears were bleeding. Wasn't I the one who might die from excessive blood loss at this rate? A dizzying thought seeped into my mind, but I desperately tried to steady my emotions.
'I need to cry. Cry.'
When reason doesn't work, you appeal to emotion. As if rewarded for my effort, clear droplets rolled down beneath my eyes.
"Sob! It's all… all my fault. I hurt him. I—I deserve to die."
Despite the flood of tears, my mind was occupied with something else entirely:
Why this damned flower had never once appeared in the original novel.