After the individual consultation, Ana and the others bid their farewell to Henri and his Master. Immediately after, Uta, instead of sending them back to the floor they belonged to, entrusted them to a familiar group of flowers, the same ones that Ana and Lydia, together with Laura, had met before. Uta then disappeared, most likely to handle the business she had with Henri, whatever it was.
This had felt like an opportunity at first, when Uta said she would not send them back to their floor. But once the girls were entrusted to the girls, Ana realized it was not an opportunity at all. With how clingy they were, she had no room to do anything on her own. It felt like a waste, more of a waste of time than ever, especially after the personal consultation that hinted her time as a bloom might be limited.
It was a strange feeling. Who would have thought she would ever feel threatened by the idea of her career as a flower being cut short? Yet that was the unspoken mood in the room after Henri and his Master delivered their verdict: her scars could not be undone, at least not by the Master’s hands. Madam Violet tried to act unaffected, but her disappointment was still visible, both as a person and as the one responsible for the garden’s flowers. For a moment, Ana even expected her to mention the possibility that Ana might never become a flower at all. But no, it seemed that was a matter for higher-ups such as Madam Acacia, whom Ana had not seen since the day she welcomed the three of them.
Thinking back, Ana realized this was the first place in a long time where her scars felt like a disadvantage. The last time she had felt that way was before they were scars, back when they still hurt. After that, she never saw them as a hindrance. Outside, all she had to do was wear a long-sleeved shirt or cardigan and a pair of gloves. It might sound burdensome, but those pieces had become part of her aesthetic, natural in the same way a lute is natural to a bard.
Within the Inquisitorum Regiae’s grounds, where she had spent most of her time, her scars were not a drawback at all. If anything, they were useful. She could not control everyone with [Tethered Will] or [Falsify Memory]. Sometimes she had to rely on more mundane methods. And those scars, along with the guilt they provoked in others when they realized she had to live with them, were the perfect leverage to obtain what she needed.
In fact, it was by abusing that combination that she managed to send her little brother to enroll in the prestigious Aetherneum that most, including nobles, could only dream of joining. It was how she secured the comfortable life she now had. Here, however, those scars only earned her looks of pity, worse still, pity she could not exploit in any useful way.
Well… truthfully, there was one exception to this rule. And that exception was the person walking beside Ana.
Noticing her gaze, Lydia asked, "What?"
"Nothing," she denied.
When Lydia saw those scars, unlike others, she was indifferent. Something Ana had come to notice the girl was also toward many other things, including displays of wealth, which would elicit a certain reaction from a girl with the background she claimed. Charmy, for example, had that expected reaction when stepping into the upper floor, but Lydia was not the slightest bit moved. Something was suspicious about that girl. Ana had thought so from their very first interaction.
"This might be my chance," Ana found herself thinking as they walked together down the corridor. There were no witnesses. She could use her skill to figure out the truth. It was now or never.
Go!
…
Nothing.
Ana couldn’t bring herself to do anything.
Thinking back, it had been like that since the very first day. She had been unable to do anything. For some reason, she could not bring herself to confront the girl; so much so that she had pushed deep into a remote corner of her mind what she had seen that day—what she had no doubt she truly saw: someone vanishing by magic.
She’s a peon. She was appraised. She seemed to be a peon. What if she, just like Ana herself, was a Highbreed or a Verdenkind passing herself off as a peon?
In that moment, Ana realized what made her hesitate: it was the uncertainty of her nature. If this girl wasn’t a peon but something else, Ana didn’t want to be the one to find out.
Ana remembered how, that day, the girl’s immediate reaction had been to chase after her. What if that happened again? Would the outcome be as peaceful as her just trying to stop her? A chill ran down Ana’s back, and her heart almost leapt out of her mouth when the girl asked,
"Where's the clingy idiot?"
"Charmy? Not sure. She earlier asked Uta for permission to leave earlier than usual but I don't know why.."
Today, just as they had every day since Uta replaced Laura, the group ate dinner together in a small room near the kitchen. But tonight, Charmy left earlier than usual after asking Uta for permission. And, being as kind and lenient as always, Uta let her go.
"Hm. Did that idiot ate something she shouldn't have or something?"
"Who knows…"
At these words, silence returned, making Ana actually miss Charmy. As annoyingly friendly and clingy as she was, she had the talent of lightening the mood. Now that it was just the two of them, this march, awkward as it was, already felt like an eternity.
Bearing through the silence, the duo at last arrived at the corridor leading to their respective rooms. At that moment, incidentally, Charmy, in a nightgown, emerged from her room with a pillow and sheet in hand.
"Oh," she froze awkwardly. "You’re already back!"
"What are you doing?"
“Me? Nothing,” she said quickly, though her guilty glance at the two of them, and then at Lydia’s room betrayed her. Ana understood at once. The girl beside her understood even faster and sprinted for the room. Charmy charged after her, aiming for the same target: Lydia’s door, but Lydia moved with an impressive burst of athleticism, she blocked the doorway before the girl who must closer to it could reach it.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
"Oh, come on, Lydia!"
"No!"
"Just tonight!"
"Sleep in your own room, I have no place."
"But I've already arranged everything for our sleepover."
"Who gave you permission to enter my room!?"
"Uta, she said it's alright for us to have a sleepover, so we're going to have a sleepover," she tried to push through, but petite as she is she stood no chance. "Come on. Please!"
"No. Now get away from my room."
"I'll pay you."
"Hmph, with what even?"
"Hm, let me think... I know, I'll let you do it."
"What?"
"Pop this pimple, I'll let you do it today, you've been itching to do it all day right, you're literally staring at—"
"You chose this," Lydia called, immediately shifting her objective from protecting her to popping the pimple on Charmy's face.
“Ahhh, wait! Ana?s, help—aaah! Ana?s!” Charmy cried.
Ignoring the girl’s pleas, Ana went into her room. As expected, her pillow and sheet were missing. She took her time getting changed, then stepped back out, only to find Charmy on the floor, whining.
“Ana, look! There’s blood coming out of it. It’s going to leave a scar, isn’t it? I told her to wait until tomorrow!”
Ana took a closer look, then chuckled, then grabbed her pillow and sheet. "You chose this, don't complain," offering her a hand she said, "now let's do this sleepover, so that your pimple was not popped in vain."
Charmy took Ana's hand and followed her in Lydia's room, where everything had been arranged for the sleepover. Loosely.
"What do you think?" an ecstatic Charmy asked, as they settled in their bedding, "It's fun, right."
"My back hurts, it's cold and hard," Ana complained. Their room was furnished with a simple one-place bed, so when Charmy arranged somewhere to sleep it was the ground.
"Really? You heard that Lydia, Ana?s's back hurts sleeping on the ground."
"I'm not going to share my bed with anyone."
"Come on there's definitely a place for one more, no there's even place for two more if the three of us cuddle tightly."
"IN YOUR DREAMS!"
"Fine, I get it, I was only joking, we don't need your bed, we’ll sleep on the ground," the girl boldly announced on her and Ana’s behalf.
"I'm still cold and feel the hard ground though."
"Bear through it, our host is that mean."
"You little shi—You want me to—"
"Hihihi, sorry," Charmy snickered like a teenager.
"I'm going to sleep now," Lydia declared, blowing at the lamp lighting the room.
A minute or so after the light went out, Charmy finally spoke. “Hey, you two… why did you join the Garden?” She paused only long enough to decide she’d go first. “I’ll tell you mine. I did it for the money. And from what I saw today, it looks like there might be a lot of it for us to earn. Don’t you think?”
Today, Charmy had seen what the Flower section of the garden was like. She had seen how the other flowers looked and how they were dressed. She had heard a few stories from them, so Ana more or less understood what the girl meant. If Ana were truly here to become a flower, what she saw today would have given her more than enough material to imagine herself getting a happy ending, financially speaking.
"I guess so."
"Lydia?"
"Hmm."
“Remember what the blooms were wearing earlier? Everything was shiny and pretty. What they had… it was just casually so much more than anything in my village.”
"Hm, village huh? Aren't you from Miriandelle?"
"Yes, I'm from Miriandelle, the region, not the city. I'm from a village several kilometers away from the city, a place not even worth naming, a shabby place really."
"I see."
"—A cold, run-down and miserable place to live in, truly," Charmy bitterly monologued. "A shithole compared to this city."
Ana didn’t know what exactly Charmy went through in that place, but from the sound of it, there weren’t many pleasant memories she had of it.
“Waouh, you really hate that place from the sound of it,” Lydia remarked, despite having pretended to be asleep moments before.
“Yeah, I hate it,” Charmy said bitterly. “That place is so cold. Every time I tell people I’m from the region, they say it must be nice to have a view of the sea. But they have no idea. It’s cold, foggy almost all the time, everything is grey. The ocean… sure, it’s beautiful sometimes, but most of the time it’s just white and dark blue, nothing else. It’s so jarring to look at.”
When Miriandelle is mentioned, most people familiar with geography would think of the city, located at the easternmost edge of this side of the Land of Men. Those familiar with history would remember it as a coastal city that once held one of the most important ports under Emperor Cleon, making it the second most important city in the kingdom of Eldoria despite not being a Ducal city. It offered the best passage both to the other side of the continent and to the elven territories across and through the Parting Sea.
That is history, because it is no longer the case. Over a century and a half ago, a cataclysmic battle above the Parting Sea transformed the once-blue waters into a frozen, unstable wasteland of white. That battle, of course, was the confrontation between Emperor Cleon and Queen Arianna, a clash that ushered in a new era and brought about ruin to people depending of these waters. But ultimately, what is their misery to beings equal to the deity worshiped by an entire continent? Nothing.
“Well, I guess… I’m glad you at least like this place and the establishment.” Holding to the standards of the prudish maiden she was supposed to be, Ana carried a certain prejudice against the service here. “But I have to ask—you're younger than me, yet surely you understand what staying ‘here’ entails, right? What you’ll have to do as a flower?”
“I know of course… of course I do. Sure, there’s that, but—I mean, it’s far better than working on some farm or trying to catch fish in those frosty, curse-inducing waters. Here, at least, I’m guaranteed to sleep warmly at night, like I am now. And who knows? Maybe I’ll hit the jackpot with some young priest or even a young lord,” the girl said, smiling with unabashed mischief. “Either way, it’s fine, as long as he builds a big mansion somewhere, so I’ll never be cold like back there.”
The genuine spite in her voice convinced Ana of the girl’s conviction.
“That’s your dream?” Ana asked softly.
“Yep. That’s my dream. And you, Ana?s? What’s yours? You must have one, right?”
Thinking about the future, Ana couldn’t help but reflect on everything that had led her to share this cold, hard mat on the floor. A small chuckle escaped her.
“I have one too,” she said, “but that’s a secret.”
"Eh, but I told you mine."
"Nobody asked you to."
"That’s mean. And you, Lydia, do you have one? A dream."
The girl, Lydia, remained silent to Charmy’s call, but both of them knew it was not because she was asleep. She was clearly choosing to ignore Charmy. Still, Charmy pressed on.
“Lydia.”
After several attempts, the girl finally answered, though not in the way Charmy had probably been expecting.
“Girl, trust me. Whatever my dreams are, if you do not shut your mouth and sleep, I will beat you to a pulp and drag you out of this room that should be mine and mine alone.”
Bluff or not, the threat had its intended effect. Charmy went quiet and the room fell blessedly still.
“That will be all from me, I hope, for tonight. So, good night.”
"Good night, Lydia."
"Good night," Ana agreed.
Despite the stiff, hard, and cold floor beneath the mattress, Ana found sleep surprisingly quickly and that without using her ability to knock herself out. At first, she had feared she would need to use the method that allowed her to sleep through the rough journey from Leirden to the Holy Capital, but she did not.
A few hours into her slumber, Ana was awakened by a series of nudges.
“What is it?” she asked, still groggy, immediately noticing that it was Charmy.
“Shh!” was all she got in reply. “Look.”
Ana followed the direction of Charmy’s pointing, rubbed her eyes, and saw Lydia on the bed, fast asleep.
What Charmy wanted her to see was obvious at a glance. It was the most vulnerable she had ever seen Lydia. The girl was curled up in a fetal position, lost in a deep sleep. She was dreaming, sobbing softly, and a single tear traced down her cheek as she called, “Mom.”
