Perido crouched in front of the mandrelson, tilting his head with an expression that asked: *Is this flower really pretty?*
Marin plucked a stem, twisted it deftly into a circle, and tied off the ends.
"There—that's how you make a flower ring."
She slipped it onto Perido's tiny finger.
His eyes lit up like lanterns.
*"Wow! It's beautiful!"*
Seeing the boy's delight, Marin gathered more stems and wove them around his thin wrist, fashioning a delicate bracelet.
Perido leapt to his feet and darted toward Garnet—who'd been standing at a distance, arms crossed—and thrust his hand forward proudly, showing off his new treasures.
"Well..." Garnet studied the ring and bracelet with exaggerated seriousness. "They're beautiful."
Even though she clearly disliked Marin, Garnet was making a valiant effort not to spoil the child's joy. That was commendable.
Then Perido slipped the ring off his own finger and pressed it onto Garnet's.
"Perido..."
Her voice wavered. She'd been pushed away by him so many times in recent weeks—small rejections that had carved wounds deeper than she'd admit. Now she looked at her little brother with an expression that bordered on wonder.
Perido smiled broadly, grabbed her hand, and pulled her across the garden until she stood directly in front of Marin.
"Ah?"
*"Thank you. The teacher made it."*
"He says that since I made it, you should thank *me*?" Marin translated, amused despite herself.
The tender moment shattered.
Garnet's face twisted into a pout. She glanced sideways at Marin and muttered, barely audible:
"...Thank you."
She looked as though she wanted to yank the ring off immediately—but for Perido's sake, she restrained herself.
*An affectionate cat, bristling with mistrust.*
"You're very welcome," Marin replied with a bright smile.
"Perido, shall we make more? We can give them to your other sisters."
*"Yes!"*
"Then gather the flowers over there—but only the ones with longer stems. Can you manage that?"
*"Yes!"*
He answered cheerfully and began inspecting the blooms scattered across the ground, carefully stepping around those with short stems and selecting only the suitable ones.
Marin sat and began sorting the flowers herself. After a moment, she glanced up at Garnet.
"My lady, would you like to join us?"
"Why would I?"
Sharp. Immediate. As expected.
"Then you don't have to," Marin said mildly, suppressing a smile.
Garnet's eyes flashed with indignation—but when she saw that Marin wasn't offended, that she was actually *smiling*, the girl's expression shifted to outright confusion.
"Good. I *don't* want to." She lifted her chin. "And I don't care about this insignificant flower. Or my future sister-in-law."
"That's a shame—you're calling it insignificant?" Marin's tone turned teasing. "Mandrelson is very useful, you know. The flower is offended. But I'm not, so don't worry."
"Who cares if *you're* offended! *Hmph!*"
Garnet folded her arms across her chest and snorted with theatrical disdain.
*One more snort like that and she'll launch mucus across the garden.*
Satisfied with their brief exchange, Marin lowered her gaze back to the mandrelson.
Since she was already here, she might as well gather enough to make a medicinal paste.
Garnet winced as Marin began plucking flowers with quick, practiced efficiency.
"Why pick so many if you're not even going to *use* them? It's wasteful."
"These will be made into medicine."
Torn between her stubborn refusal to speak to Marin and her burning curiosity, Garnet hesitated—then gave in.
"Medicine?"
"Yes. You grind them into a paste and apply it to the forehead. It cools fevers. It's a folk remedy common people use."
"And how do *you*—a noblewoman—know about such things?"
"Haven't you heard that my family went bankrupt after my father died?"
*Of course she hasn't heard.*
Garnet's emerald eyes flickered with uncertainty.
"The maids in the Duke's household are excellent at keeping their mouths shut." Marin's voice remained light. "When your home collapses and you're living almost like a commoner, you learn all sorts of useful things."
She'd actually learned about mandrelson pulp from Julia, but explaining all the details would take far too long.
"Ah... w-well..."
"It's fine. Lord Gerald is looking after me now, so I'm living quite comfortably."
At the Duke's name, Garnet's face turned to stone.
Marin sighed inwardly. *This isn't just dislike toward me. This runs deeper.*
As though wanting to escape the sudden tension, Garnet called out to her brother:
"Perido! What are you doing over there?"
The boy had wandered quite far. He stood with his head tilted back, staring blankly at the sky.
Garnet approached, and her expression darkened.
Marin followed, still holding her armful of flowers.
"Perido?"
*"Teacher... there..."*
He raised one small hand and pointed upward.
Marin followed his gaze and saw the towering spire rising in the distance—black stone against pale sky.
She'd noticed it every time she came to this garden, but had never paid it much attention.
"What about it?"
*"Is that where the Duke lives?"*
"No. Not there."
It was the first time the word *Duke* had passed the boy's lips.
*Why now? Why suddenly?*
Marin looked down at Perido's small, dark head. He lowered his gaze and turned away, withdrawing into himself.
"Do you want to see the Duke?"
She crouched to his level, speaking gently.
Perido shook his head, his expression blank.
*"I want to go back to my room."*
"All right. Let's go."
Marin couldn't understand the sudden shift in his mood, but a deep sadness had settled over the child's face like a veil. He took Garnet's hand firmly and began walking toward the outbuilding without another word.
As they walked, Marin noticed him glance back at the spire—just once, quickly.
She looked too.
But whatever had sparked his curiosity—or perhaps his fear—remained unclear.
---
After returning Perido to his room, Marin made her way to the reception parlor.
Idre greeted her with a warm smile, already seated and sipping tea.
"Lady Marin!"
"Designer! What brings you here?"
"Work, naturally." Idre set down her cup with a satisfied clink. "I've brought those dresses you ordered earlier."
"You still have them?"
"Of course. We have about twenty more left to sew, dear client."
Julia set the table with an assortment of pastries and small cakes, then curtsied.
"Thank you, Julia."
"You're welcome, my lady. I'll leave you to your conversation."
Once Julia departed, Marin lifted her teacup and asked:
"Have you been terribly busy lately?"
Idre threw up her hand dramatically, nearly spilling her tea.
"You have *no idea*. I'll probably need to hire additional assistants soon."
"That's wonderful news! Congratulations!" Marin said warmly.
"Ha! It's all thanks to you, Lady Marin." Idre laughed, bright and unrestrained. "Everyone dreams of wearing dresses from my atelier now—after all, I'm the *future Duchess's* personal designer."
"I... I see."
*Except the future Duchess isn't me.*
To hide her discomfort, Marin raised her cup again and took a long sip.
"And the young ladies preparing for their debuts are *all* demanding new gowns. It's absolute chaos."
"You'll be rich soon."
"One can hope!" Idre's eyes sparkled. "Oh—speaking of debuts, they're planning a small dessert tea party for the girls at Count Eyre's estate before the season officially begins."
"Really?"
"Yes. It's an annual tradition. This year, the eldest daughter of the Count is hosting—the youngest is making her debut."
Marin's smile turned wry.
*If it happens every year, then it happened during my season too.*
She hadn't received an invitation then.
*What was the eldest daughter's name? Susan?* That icy, piercing gaze surfaced in her memory, sharp as winter wind.
"His Lordship's eldest niece is making her debut as well, isn't she?"
"...Yes."
Even though Daya wasn't eager, avoiding the event entirely would only fuel gossip.
"Then an invitation will arrive soon, I imagine. Will you attend?"
"Is it necessary?"
"All the young ladies of the West will be there. Those debuting this year would do well to make connections beforehand."
"I haven't received an invitation yet." Marin set down her cup carefully. "I'll think about it if one arrives."
"By the way—have you chosen your debut gown yet?"
Marin shook her head.
"The lady is still in mourning."
"Ah, of course. Well, when you're ready, let me know immediately. I'll prioritize it above all else."
"Thank you. I will."
---
## — Night —
*Knock-knock-knock.*
Marin jolted awake at the sharp sound and sat upright in bed.
She glanced instinctively toward the window—still dark. Deep night.
*Knock-knock-knock.*
The knocking came again, urgent and insistent.
Marin stood and cracked the door open.
Daya stood on the threshold in a thin nightgown, her face ghostly pale.
Marin pulled the door wider, alarm flooding her chest.
"My lady—what's happened at this hour?"
"I'm sorry." Daya's voice shook. "I know it's improper to come like this, but I—"
Her face was unnaturally pale, her fingers visibly trembling.
Marin seized her hands tightly, anchoring her.
"Is everything all right? What's wrong?"
"Help..."
The word came out quiet, desperate. Daya's wide eyes filled instantly with tears.
Marin's heart lurched.
"What happened?"
"P-Perido is missing." Daya's voice cracked. "Perido is *gone*."