CHAPTER 2

She felt no physical pain, perhaps due to her massive overdose.

When Violet opened her eyes again, she was lying on a bed so soft she couldn’t feel her body. She felt a grin appearing on her face, and she buried her face in the pillow.

A breeze floated in through the window, nudging the curtains and shaking her hair.

She would have killed herself three years ago if she’d known death would be so peaceful.

She’d never felt so refreshed in her life. The headache that had plagued her was completely gone, and so was the tiredness that had filled her body.

“I’m so happy right now....”

Violet's eyes had slowly been closing when the sound of her own voice wrenched them open again.

She sat up and clasped her hands around her neck. She looked at her hands.

Neither her neck or her hands were her own. They were her husband's hands, which she hadn’t touched since her wedding. Her voice was his, low and angry. Violet ran her hands over her healthy body, hardened by physical labor and sports. She covered her mouth.

She set her feet on the floor and was shocked by the sensation of the strong leg muscles that supported her.

“What's going on here?”

She stared at herself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. The man reflected in the mirror was Winter Blooming.

A man over 190 cm tall, with broad shoulders and barbaric but attractive looks. Winter Blooming had pitch black hair that curled slightly towards the ends and gray eyes.

“I must be really crazy now,” Violet muttered to herself.

The door banged open and Winter’s secretary, Hayell, stepped in.

“Sir! Lowell has gotten there early! Hurry up and get ready!”

He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a suit in the other. Hayell was already in a suit himself, and the usual formalities that he showed around other members of House Blooming were completely gone.

Hayell laid out a white shirt and slacks on the bed.

“You can put these on. And please, wear a tie this time? It’s an official event.”

“I certainly….No, I mean, alright.”

Hayell grimaced at Violet’s courteous answer, then nodded as if he understood.

“Oh, you’re practicing your manners for today's conference, aren't you? You were rather short-tempered yesterday.”

Violet looked confused. “...Practice? Why?” she asked in her husband’s voice.

“Why? Well, you’ve got terrible manners, for one,” Hayell replied.

“Me?”

“Are you serious? We don't have time for this! You woke up much too late! Get changed quickly!”

Violet, flustered, nodded and ran to her bed.

Moments later, a maid appeared and poured some coffee that still seemed to be boiling into a cup on the table. Hayell took liberal spoonfuls of sugar and dumped them into the cup.

“About the coffee beans from the Vaidellin Mountains; Lowell wanted a price increase of 30 rounds (10,000 rounds equal 1 laakne) per gram. He’s a crazy bastard, don't you think?”

“Hayell. Could you step outside for a bit? I need to change.”

Hayell's eyes went wide.

“What’s gotten into you this morning?”

Violet was used to having other people helping her change, of course, but it had always been female attendants who’d helped her.

Violet, feeling very uncomfortable about changing in Hayell's presence, explained to him.

“It's that kind of morning. Turn around, at least?”

“Why do you suddenly sound so genteel... and why aren't you taking your coffee?”

Hayell, taken aback, turned away from her and began his briefing.

Violet took a sip of the coffee and almost spat it out. It was extremely strong and all the sugar made her tongue hurt. In addition, it was so piping hot that she wondered if the maid had dropped heated pebbles directly into the cup.

She could not take more than a single sip. Violet gave up on drinking any more of it and hesitantly put on her white shirt and black pants. She then wrapped the gray tie around her neck. Troubled, she looked towards Hayell.

“Hayell, forgive me, but....”

“Is it another hangover? You can't make it to the conference?”

Winter must only apologize when he has a hangover. Violet lifted the tie towards Hayell.

“Tie this for me, please.”

“You’re punishing me for something, aren't you? I don't know what I did wrong, but I’d rather you cursed at me like usual.”

Hayell, looking perplexed, walked over and adroitly knotted and arranged her tie. Violet had turned away, finding it awkward for a man other than her husband to stand so close. When Hayell finished, she put on her shoes.

“So... A meeting straightaway?”

“Yes. Sir, even if he tries his best to get on your nerves...Whatever you do, don't get angry, and don't flip the table.”

Winter must like to flip tables.

She was quickly realizing that her image of her husband, that of a cold, composed, heartless man was not entirely accurate. Though if this whole ordeal was the product of her lunacy, she could be wrong.

“Now, if you’re finished, let's get going!”

Hayell pushed Violet forward from behind. Violet began walking, surprised by the strength in Winter's hard body. The shove Hayell had given her had hardly registered.

***

Without any sort of preamble, Violet found herself seated in front of the contract Winter had yet to finalize.

The table was covered with documents.

What do I do?

Violet was certain that she’d finally lost her mind and this was some kind of elaborate delusion. Still, she was loath to sign a contract that she didn't know much about. Blaming her personality which wouldn't allow her to rest easy even inside a delusion, she read through the contract.

It took her a whole to read through to the end. Lowell of the Vaidellin Mountains sat opposite her. He spoke.

“You were shouting at the top of your lungs yesterday, he said. “Why are you suddenly so quiet?”

“I overstepped my boundaries yesterday. I apologize.”

According to the briefing, Lowell was a lord with an extreme elitist mindset and attached much meaning to etiquette.

Violet's attempt to be better mannered than was usual for Winter must have grated on Lowell. He spoke in a displeased tone.

“What are you trying to pull here? What, since you were vicious yesterday, you’re trying to be gentle today? Is this some kind of plan?”

“No, actually....”

“Look at all these numbers here.”

Lowell marked up every single number in the contract by 30.

“I cannot sell the Vaidellin beans unless you buy them at this price.”

Vaidellin coffee was one of the best. Violet had tried some every now and then at the royal castle. She'd never known that the coffee was this expensive. Never having negotiated for anything in her life, Violet was hard put to it to come up with an answer.

“The contract is already finished... and if you raise the prices by 30 rounds that makes things very difficult for us financially.”

Lowell replied irritably to her cautious reply.

“You don’t fool me. Your hotel chain is flourishing these days. Forgive me for not believing your claim.”

She'd heard that her husband had gone irretrievably broke after marrying her. He must have recovered some of his wealth.

Or maybe I’m just hearing what I want to hear. After all, all this is in my head,

Violet thought to herself.

She knew she felt tons of guilt for what Winter had been through. That was why she’d always greeted him with a welcoming smile when he came home, no matter how long his trips lasted. While Violet continued her train of thought, Lowell spoke.

“At these prices, the Vaidellin children cannot be paid properly.”

“Children?”

“Of course. They pick the beans.”

God, children were being forced to work!

Violet knew she had to make sure the children were paid. She gazed at the contract and picked up her seal.

“In that case, if things are as you say....”

She moved like she was going to seal the contract. Hayell blanched, ran up to her, and grabbed her arm.

“S-sir! The alcohol must not be out of your system just yet!”

Hayell pulled her out of her chair.

Violet meekly followed him away from the table, and Hayell chided her in a low voice.

“Are you really still drunk? What's the matter with you!”

“The children...children pick those beans....”

“He's trying to manipulate you. He knows you were treated like a slave as a child. And you know better than anyone that even if it really is children that pick those beans, the money will end up in Lowell's pocket anyway...Why must I be explaining these things? You know all this! How much did you have to drink last night?”

Hayell seemed certain that the drink had not entirely left his boss’ system.

Violet, flummoxed, asked, “How would I usually have reacted? If... if I wasn't... still drunk.”

“I’ve seen people do some strange things while drunk, but this...You’d have flipped the table the moment he mentioned 30 rounds, I imagine. I'd have had to intervene, and the meeting would have been postponed, probably.”

“...”

So she had to flip the table to act like Winter usually did.

The table was marble, though. Could marble tables be flipped over so easily?

Violet considered the question and walked over to the table. To her surprise, the heavy table moved when she lifted it.

Violet was shocked by the strength in Winter's arms. She glanced at Lowell, who had shrunk away in fear. Violet gazed at him for a short while. She picked up the documents that had slid from the table. She then sat down and crossed out the numbers Lowell had written on the contract.

“Let’s start over. From the beginning.”

“What do you mean?”

Lowell asked, trembling.

“Let’s talk it over. We’ll sit here and talk until both of us are satisfied with the terms.”

It was Winter Blooming’s way to intimidate and turn the tables upside down. However, the person sitting here was Violet Lawrence, and being persistent was her forte. She'd had to be persistent every day, attending those parties like some kind of ghost and taking the rocks that people chucked her way in silence.

Violet spread out the documents on the table.

“I shall read them from the beginning,” she told him.

“Reading them won't change a word.”

“I’m going to read them repeatedly until I find an answer, or until one of us tires.”

She didn’t care if this was a dream or the product of her delusions. Violet had a burning sense of responsibility, and she would do her best for this contract.

Lowell could not hide his apprehension when Winter looked straight into his eyes and began to inspect the terms of the contract. He’d never seen Winter look so soft-spoken and arrogant. The negotiation should have ended with Winter flipping the table again; Lowell began to look for ways to trigger him.

“I heard the cigars in Lacround are famous,” Lowell said, prodding.

Hayell gasped unwittingly and covered his mouth.

It was as he'd said. Lacround cigars were famous, but only the aristocracy enjoyed them. Winter had once entertained the notion of learning to smoke cigars so he could converse with aristocrats better, but the dozens of petty smoking manners had soon dissuaded him. Since then, he hadn’t taken even a passing interest in cigars.

Lowell spoke.

“I’d like to try some myself, if you don't mind.”

“I’ll gladly share some with you,” Violet responded.

What! Why did you agree to that!

Hayell swallowed. He’d almost cried out. If Lowell began making sarcastic comments about the cigars, Winter would rage again, and Lowell would walk away with the better deal. This contract was for a huge amount of coffee beans that was to be supplied to all of his hotels. A tiny numerical change meant huge differences in the end revenue.

Winter had written something on a note and passed it to Hayell between his index and middle fingers.

Hayell scrutinized the note much longer than necessary. He was confused by its meaning and baffled by the unfamiliar handwriting. When Hayell didn’t move, Winter asked, “Would you prefer I bought them myself?”

“N-no! I’ll be right back, sir!”

Hayell realized that the word that left him flummoxed must be the name of a cigar. He rushed away. He bought the cigars and tools mentioned in the note from a store nearby and laid them on the table.

Winter removed a belicoso cigar from the box and poked at it with his finger.

Is he supposed to do that? That’s an expensive cigar.

Hayell didn't know much about cigars himself, and was nervous. Winter, having checked that the cigar had no faults, handed it to Lowell.

“It was the cigar of choice for the Royal House once. I'm not sure if you’ll like it.”

Lowell, dazed, took the cigar.

Winter took out another for himself, cut off the head, and lit it. Not even Lowell, who’d looked down on him as someone lower in status, could find fault with his perfect smoking etiquette. It was as though he'd been educated on this since a young age.

Lowell did not forget his goal. He held out his cigar and tried something bolder.

“I'd like my inferior to light it for me.”

Hayell backed away from the table immediately. He was certain that table was going to end up upside down this time. Winter, however, simply looked unsure of what Lowell meant.

Violet Lawrence occupied his body after all. Even though the Royal House was no more and she’d lived in ignominy for the past three years, even though the title “princess” irritated her, she’d never been called anyone's inferior.

Violet thought for a moment.

“Yes, I suppose I am definitely younger than you are.”

“No, I didn't mean—”

“I didn’t know you’d have trouble lighting it. You must be completely new to them. I should have explained better.”

Violet was not ridiculing him. She had really thought the term “inferior” was referring to her age, and felt apologetic towards Lowell who'd apparently asked her to light it because it was all so unfamiliar. Lowell took it as an insult and his face instantly reddened.

Violet thought he'd reddened from embarrassment, and decided to pretend not to notice.

“Today's meeting will last a while, since I have several things for you to try.”

Hayell, finally breaking into a smile, lifted the various cigars that Winter had instructed him to buy.

“That’s right, there are quite a few.”

It was Lowell's turn to pale.

Smoking all of those would kill at least one of them from nicotine overdose. And Lowell instinctively knew he would end up with the short end of the stick.