Chapter 5

The next morning, she’d just finished breakfast and was enjoying her tea when Lulu appeared, pushing a clothes rack.

“Little Mistress, please choose what you’ll wear to lunch with Mr. Blooming.”

“What are all these clothes?”

“It was on short notice, but Hayell rushed out and bought them.”

These were fancy and bold dresses Violet had never seen before.

She looked embarrassed. Duke Blooming and his wife would have a fit if she wore something this fancy. But then, they weren't here at the capital to see her. And because their servant Hayell had picked them out, maybe they’d overlook it just this once.

Violet was excited. All she ever wore were drab clothes so this was a nice change. These dresses were beautiful. She asked worriedly, “But... can we afford this?”

Lulu looked aghast.

“What do you mean?”

“My husband used 2.4 million laakne when he married me. He told me he was on the brink of ruin...”

“D-did he?” Lulu listened, round-eyed. She must have not known the particulars.

“I wonder why Hayell always buys so many clothes, if we have so little money?”

“Always?”

“Yes. He always brings back whole racks full of new dresses.”

“...Dresses?” Violet's voice dwindled.

Her husband had never brought back dresses for her.

Who had Hayell been buying those dresses for?

Violet felt a bitterness in her mouth. Not wishing to ruin her rare chance to go out, she buried the feeling and forced a smile.

“What should I try on...”

Violet sounded like she was hesitating, but her hand was already reaching out towards a light scarlet satin dress. There were a few black and gray dresses as well (which were the colors she usually wore in House Blooming) but today she was going to wear her favorite color. Lulu nodded in agreement.

“That goes perfectly with today's weather!”

She also tied a cream-colored ribbon around her waist. She then picked out a pair of shoes from the basketful of shoes on the bottom of the hanger. It was a velvet slipper with pointed ends and pearls, the same color as her ribbon. Violet sounded surprised.

“I've never seen such beautiful slippers.”

“Now, time for your hair. Please sit down.”

Violet settled onto a chair and Lulu began brushing her light blond hair.

“Your hair is gorgeous! The master is so blessed. He has a wife that’s beautiful, kind, and—”

“Thank you for saying that.”

This was pretty much her first date with her husband. Violet was ebullient.

* * *

Violet had tied a red ribbon on her head, as was the trend in the capital these days. She looked like she was in a fabulous mood.

When she stepped out of the hotel with Lulu, she found a hotel carriage, a butler, a cook, and Flip standing where the carpet ended.

The cook, Tulin, was in a great mood after Violet had complimented him on the breakfast. He stepped forward.

“Little Mistress, what would you like for dinner tonight?”

“Anything with meat in it will be fine.”

“In that case, I have a 12-course meal, with turnip soup, chicken-and-pork pie, buttered lobster, and—”

Lulu held up a finger, “Tulin, didn’t you hear her? She said meat!”

“There’s the pie, isn't there! And the food is going to be amazing!”

“Are you deaf, my man? Don't cook the foods you want to make!”

“Meat takes money, you understand!”

“See? I knew you’d say that. You’re always going on about the cost!”

Violet cautiously asked Flip, “Are these two always like this?”

“She always quarrels with the cook, even though she hasn't been working here for that long.”

“I see.” Violet nodded.

As the quarrel subsided, the horseman held the door of the carriage open for Violet. Lulu got into the carriage with her, and grumbled.

“Cooks, they’re always full of shit.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, Little Mistress. But you know, I make a mean meatloaf. Would you like to try it sometime?

“I’d love to. Please let me try it before I leave.”

Lulu wondered at Violet's gentle response, “You know, Little Mistress, you’re the exact opposite of the master.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You’re like one of those aristocrats in the capital.”

That could mean two things. Either it meant she was very well mannered, or she was too reserved, making it difficult to figure out what she was thinking.

Violet gave a moderate nod, like the aristocrats were wont to do.

“What about my husband?”

“He's rather...clear cut about his demands.”

Selfish and loud.

“Quick to decide.”

Quick to explode whenever something displeased him.

“One little drawback, maybe, is that he doesn’t care much for manners.”

She was being very oblique, and yet used the word “drawback.” That was an indication of just how rude he actually was.

Violet read between the lines. Lulu couldn’t badmouth her employer, after all. She nodded in sympathy.

The carriage moved towards the outskirts of the city, where the river and sea met in an estuary.

* * *

The capital hadn't changed much over the past three years.

Violet saw a portrait of her brother, Ash Lawrence, hanging on a passing wall.

Lacround curbed a major catastrophe by marrying Violet to Winter Blooming. Ash publicized his current life in a farmhouse on the newspapers daily, garnering the support of the populace. Violet hated the sight of him. She closed the curtains.

The carriage stopped at a small island in the estuary of Rekkle River, which ran through the lands of Lacround.

Lulu stepped out of the carriage.

“This place is famous among tourists these days. Foreign tourists always stop here, apparently.”

“It looks very nice.”

Small storefronts crowded the front of the bridge, and beyond it on the other side. Violet began walking faster, intoxicated by the sights of the outside world.

* * *

The day had grown hot. Winter had slung his jacket onto one shoulder. He checked his watch and scowled.

“What’s taking her so long?”

“There’s still two minutes left, sir,” Hayell grumbled.

“And I only sent her the clothes past ten. Of course it’ll take her longer to prepare.”

“You’ve been siding with Violet since yesterday. What's going on?”

Winter seemed to have just noticed. Hayell avoided his gaze.

Winter tutted, “No doubt she’ll appear in one of her usual black dresses.”

“You're probably right. I wonder why she insists on always wearing black or gray wool? Never with any patterns, either.”

“The precious princess and her tastes...”

Winter’s voice dwindled when he found Violet approaching from afar.

Violet was dressed in the complete opposite way from what Winter had been expecting. She looked like a spring flower that had bloomed for the first time. Fresh and lovely. Violet saw Winter and walked gracefully over to him, like she always did. Her voice sounded happy today.

“Shall we go eat?”

“I thought you’d wear something dark again.”

“...Why did you think that?” she asked.

“You like black, don’t you?”

Violet made as if to speak, but seemed to think better of it. She didn't have the energy to explain all the small emotions to him. It wasn't that she had no strength to speak; she couldn’t bear the cold response he’d invariably show.

Violet changed the subject, “I’m hungry. Let’s go.”

The two entered the restaurant a few paces away. As Violet headed for the stairs, Winter grabbed her wrist.

“It's on the fifth floor,” he said. “You can't walk.”

“My bedroom is on the fifth floor, too.”

Winter immediately ordered to Hayell, who was following about five steps behind,

“Have an elevator installed in the mansion.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hayell dashed off. Violet gave a short sigh. He must have had an extremely tough time in her body.

As they stepped out of the elevator on the fifth floor, Violet paused. The wall that faced the beach was all glass. She could see the sea, the white sand, the blue sky, and Lacround seagulls with the distinctive orange lines on their heads.

Violet’s eyes were glued to the scenery even after she sat down. She’d never seen anything like it. All the foods served at the restaurant were southeastern seafood. The foods had little cream or butter, and eating them boosted Violet’s mood.

As they ate, Winter spoke a bit embarrassedly.

“...You were right.”

“What?” she asked.

“About my bloodline. They weren't sorcerers, but I looked into the Conic line and there were a few records of body switches that happened in the past. No records explained how or why, though.”

“I see.”

“And the contract you executed was excellent. I’ll recompense you.”

Recompense her? She was his wife. They’d been married three years and still it felt like they were strangers.

Violet still felt happy that he’d said the contract was excellent. She thought about what she wanted.

“Would you stay with me next month for your father’s birthday?”

“My time is more precious than that,” Winster said. “Tell me something you want, an object.”

“...I see.”

Violet stopped talking, and Winter grew irritable.

“I hate it when you do that. If there’s something you want to say, go ahead and say it. Don’t just clam up.”

“What I want to say...” Violet thought for a moment. “I do have one thing. A question.”

“Go on.”

“If I died, would you come to my funeral?”

Winter looked up from his food. That was not a question he’d been expecting.

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“You said, ‘if I died.’”

Violet gave a small nod, “I’ve thought about dying. It sometimes sounds better than living like this.” Winter spoke mockingly, “Don't make such a huge fuss.”

“Do you think I’m exaggerating?”

“Look. How many times have you been beaten in your life, if ever? Have you ever worked for someone? Have you ever been confined or tied up and dragged about? No. Have you ever starved for lack of money?”

Violet stopped talking.

Winter’s voice was sarcastic, “Or is this some kind of threat? That you’re going to kill yourself?”

“...”

She'd thought they had a lot to talk about, but she found it harder to find words to speak as time went on.

The conversation lagged. Violet asked him another question near the end of the meal.

“Still. If I were to die.”

“...”

“Would you give me a day of your time then?”

For his wife’s funeral? He was about to tell her to stop with the nonsense, but the words stuck in his throat when he pictured what Violet's funeral would look like.

Didn’t she know why he was working so hard?

It was to show her that he was better than she thought. That was why he was doing all this. All of which would be wasted if she died.

His wife was always the polite one, and he was the rude one. Winter always felt as though she, the precious princess, was stooping to care for a lowly outlander. It’d felt like that at the wedding, too.

Their first meeting had been at the wedding. When Winter stepped out of his carriage, he'd been completely overwhelmed by Violet Lawrence.

She'd walked over to him softly and held out her hand for him to kiss. When he gazed into those eyes, he’d felt like running away.

He'd kissed her hand anyway, but the thought never left him that she was probably ridiculing him.

He’d worked for days to get his aristocratic walking form correct, and it’d taken considerable effort to wear those stifling clothes. But all these things were as natural as breathing to Violet, and it was clear that she could not imagine a person not being capable of them. She couldn’t fathom a world where such customs were not taught.

He had nothing that could satisfy this noble woman, not even money.

That was why he had to make money. That was the only thing he was capable of acquiring.

Winter did not reply any further. Their conversation ended.