{ 5 DAYS LATER… }

  It was Sunday, April 6th.

  The air was crisp, and the sun reigned over a clear sky, dotted only by a few soft white clouds zily drifting on the horizon.

  Mirac was making his way towards the garderance.

  His legs, strong and sturdy, moved with fidence, free from the fatigue he had felt during the early months of training.

  From that moment onward, Mirac was certain that the iy of the training would increase signifitly. But he was ready to fay challenge!

  It was with this burning spirit that Mirac had shown up on April first, when his father, King Arthur, had been waiting for him to observe his training with Leonard.

  As in previous times, that afternoon the king had stopped at the edge of the field, his inscrutable gaze fixed on Mirac.

  ion had been apparent on his sterures: her the warmth of pride nor the ess of disappoi. Only that stant presence, which, since he had spoken about it with Carmen, Mirac had stopped questioning whether it was a sign of affe or mere duty.

  On the trary, he had begun to focus solely on what truly mattered: handling the sword!

  He had to ehat the desire to improve outweighed the sense of inadequacy veyed by his father's eyes.

  On April 2nd, the day after witnessing the young Priraining, King Arthur, apanied by the Grand Knight Leonard and the feared "Infernal Knights," had departed for the Sacred Region.

  Miraly khat an important global ference was scheduled, but nothing else: the details had not been sidered something to share with a young Prince of o years like him.

  When he reached the grand gate of the garden, Mirac saw Vi waiting for him.

  The man seemed agitated, a mix of ay and impatience written all over him. He kept adjusting his tie and gsses, automatic gestures betraying his nervousness.

  His restless eyes darted beyond the gate, towards the heart of the garden.

  As always, the moment Vi entered his line of sight—even though it was far from the first time Mirac had seen him—the young Prince's innate skill, "Instant Knowledge of Age," triggered in his mind like an arm bell.

  'It's absurd!' thought Mirac. 'How he only be thirty-nine? He looks at least fifty!'

  Of course, Mirac would never voice such a thought aloud, even though it rang clearly in his mind every day during lessons.

  "Oh, young Prince!" Vi excimed, finally notig his presence. His voice was a blend of relief and reverence. He bowed deeply, as protocol dictated. "I'm immensely grateful for your ing."

  "Don't worry, Professor Shirkenn," said Mirac with a warm smile. "Helping you is truly a pleasure."

  The two of them stood before the majestitrance of the royal garden, just as Vi had pnned five days earlier. The idea had sprung from him with surprising ease, almost as if it had e about by ce.

  The pn was simple, yet full of meaning: to gather flowers from the royal garden and create a bouquet with a subtle, elegant, and genuine charm.

  With this gift in hand, Vi hoped to finally muster the ce to ask Carmen out the following Sunday. A thought that, in his anxious heart, wavered betwee promise and sharp uainty.

  Today, Carmen, the servant with lively red hair, had left the castle to go into town to shop. She wouldn't be batil su, which would give Mirad Vi several hours to carry out their pn.

  However, while Mirac stood there with his usual calm posture, Vi couldn't hide his growing tension. He was visibly agitated, as though every small detail could determihe success or failure of his mission.

  In an attempt to distract him and lighten the mood, Mirac threw him a pliment in a rexed tone:

  "Bck suits you." He smiled, then winked. "But tell me, those are new clothes, aren't they? I've never seen you wear them before."

  Vi's outfit was entirely bck: a sleek shirt, perfectly pressed pants, a tie impeccably knotted, and shoes almost perfectly polished. The ensemble exuded a simple yet refined elegance, a refle of his desire to look his best.

  "Oh, thank you, young Prince!" Vi excimed, attempting to smile with a naturalhat betrayed a slight forced effort. Perhaps, he was already practig the right expression for that evening. "I was in the capital Magam, yesterday. I took the opportunity to buy these new clothes. Well, except for the tie. That's the same as always. Anyway, I hope I've prepared myself well for this evening…"

  With that being said, the versation naturally shifted to the choice of flowers, as the two of them discussed which bouquet would best vey the elegance Vi wao express.

  However, just as they were discussing, a friendly voiterrupted their versation.

  "Young Prince!"

  Mirad Viurned in unison, surprised by the call behind them.

  It was an elderly may-two years old, as indicated by Mirac's "Instant Knowledge of Age" ability—who was sloroag them.

  His clothes, stained with dirt, clearly indicated that he worked in the garden. He wore a pair of blue boots, a green overalls marked by hard work, and a worn white short-sleeve shirt, faded by time.

  His face was lined with deep wrinkles, but his dark eyes still sparkled with vitality. A shray beard framed his timeworures, and his shray hair harmonized perfectly with his figure.

  Despite his obviously advanced age, the man moved seemingly without issue, as though youth had never left him.

  "Allow me to introduce myself," the man said, with a gentle smile and a slight bow. "I am Edward Foss, the head gardener of the royal garden. It's a pleasure to meet you, young Prince!"

  Mirac reized him immediately.

  He had seen him numerous times, always busy among the pnts and flowers, but they had never had a ce to speak.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Foss," Mirac replied, returning a polite smile.

  Edward then turo Vi.

  "And you must be the famous Professht?"

  Vi nodded and gave a quick bow, with an unusual fidence.

  "Yes, exactly! I am Professor Vi Shirkenn, and I am responsible for the education of His Majesty the Prince."

  "Oh! It's an honor to meet a professor of your caliber!" Edward replied warmly. "But tell me, what brings you to the royal garden?"

  Vi and Mirac exged a knowing gnce.

  They hadn't pnned on expining their pn to anyone else, but Edward's presence seemed reassuring.

  So, after a quiod of uanding, Vi briefly expihe situation.

  * * *

  Edward raised an eyebrow, struck by the sincere and slightly embarrassed tone of Vi.

  "Oh, I see… A rather important evening, huh?"

  A sly smile appeared on his face. Then, with enthusiasm, he added:

  "Well, you're in the right pce! I know every si in this garden. If you like, I show you the best flowers here and help you choose the perfee for your beloved."

  Vi, however, quickly shook his head.

  "Oh, no no! We don't want to trouble you, Mr. Foss. After all, I'm sure we manage just fine on our own! Well, I hope so, actually…"

  But Edward wasn't disced.

  "No trouble at all, Professor! It's a pleasure for me! And who better than an old gardeo help you choose the right flowers?"

  Viried to insist again, lightly waving a hand to politely dee the offer.

  "Really, I don't want to take up your precious time. It would make me feel guilty."

  But Edward, with the persistehat only wise old men possess, tinued:

  "Don't say that, please! As you expio me earlier, tonight will be a special moment for yht? So, it's not a bother at all! Helping you would be an honor, Professor Shirkenn. And besides, without the help of a gardener, you certainly wouldn't be able to trim the flowers with the right delicacy, avoiding ruining them, and thee a well-banced bouquet that truly expresses the beauty of eadividual flower."

  Vi, visibly torn, ran a hand through his hair.

  After a moment of refle, he sighed deeply and finally gave in.

  "Alright, Mr. Foss," he murmured. "We'll accept your kind help. Thank you."

  With a smile that lit up his face, Edward gestured for the two to follow him along the garden paths, like an old captain guiding his young sailors towards a safe harbor.

  So, the three of them began walking among the flowers, while Edward spoke passionately about nature.

  * * *

  Despite having spent his whole life in the castle, Mirac had only been in the garden a few times and had never explored it deeply.

  He had always stopped in the piic area, immediately to the right of the entrance, in the pany of his mother or Carmen, and sometimes even his sister Michelle.

  But now, as he ventured further, he discovered the vastness and hiddey of the pce.

  The immense royal garden stretched as far as the eye could see, a true byrinth of colors and fragrahe flowers, of every species and variety, swayed gently uhe caress of the te afternoon breeze, as if dang to the rhythm of an invisible melody.

  Their footsteps echoed on the white gravel path, which wound like veins through the meadow, still dotted with shades of green, but already marked by the first tones of autumn, with the grass turning yellow in spots.

  The air, infused with the st of wet earth, carried the signs of the season, while the flowers, having reached the end of their bloom, tio miraculously shih colors that defied the fleeting nature of time.

  The trees, with their sturdy trunks and autumn-yellowed opies, stood tall and majestic, their leaves falling lightly, dang in the cool air.

  Here and there, gardeners dressed in simple clothes worked diligently, pruning bushes and tending flowerbeds with meticulous care.

  "By the way, young Prince," said Edward, smilily as only an old man could, "it's truly admirable of you to help Professor Shirkenn in this endeavor of his."

  "Do you think so?" replied Mirac, without showing muterest in the pliment.

  "Absolutely!" Edward tinued with a smile. "Lending a hand in matters of love is one of the acts of generosity."

  Viurowards Mirac, his expression osciltiween curiosity and a need for uanding.

  "Young Prince... May I ask you something?"

  Mirac regarded him ily.

  "Go ahead."

  Vi paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on the boy.

  "Why are you helpih all this?"

  Mirac stopped for a moment, his gaze lost among the branches of the trees.

  "The reason, huh?" he repeated thoughtfully.

  Then, looking up at the sky, he said:

  "I'm not sure..."

  He was lying!

  Throughout his previous life, the only persoor had truly fallen in love with was a certain Lai, a sate whose beauty was so stunning it made the eyes of anyone who crossed her path sparkle!

  Perhaps it recisely because of this that Vector had never mustered the ce to talk to her.

  Every day he postpohe attempt, paralyzed by the fear of not being good enough and terrified that her rejeight shatter him.

  He kept telling himself that, sooner or ter, the right moment would e: a perfestant when words would flow naturally, and everything would feel easier.

  However, that moment never came...

  Five years ter, Lai graduated a school, vanishing like a dream at dawn.

  Vector was left behind, burdened by a regret that had apanied him for the rest of his life: an invisible weight that, over time, had bent his shoulders in his miserable existence.

  And now, helping Vi avoid making the same mistake felt like a form of redemption for Mirac!

  It portunity to make amends through someone else, to prevent another person from being haunted by the void of something he himself hadn't had the ce to do.

  A few days earlier, while trying to vince Vio take the leap and fess his feelings, Mirac had felt as if he were speaking to his past self from his previous life!

  Perhaps that was why he had been so insistent, even to help with something as simple as choosing flowers.

  But, of course, he couldn't share any of this with Vi, so he tried to justify himself with a quick improvisation:

  "Maybe it's because you're my Professor," Mirac suddenly added in a steady voice. "But I'll be ho. At first, I saw you as a rather etric, almost quirky kind of person!"

  "A-Ah, really?" asked Vi, trying to ighat 'insult'.

  "Yes, Professor. However!..."

  He paused briefly, allowing a warm smile to soften his features. His expressientler as he tinued in a more heartfelt tone:

  "As time went on, you guided me and taught me everything I know today. For that, I'll always be deeply grateful to you! Helping you now with Carmen feels like the least I do."

  That said, Mirac turned his gaze back to Vi. His tone grew more serious, though no less encing:

  "Ah, before we proceed! I just want to remind you that, of course, there's no guarahings will go as you hope. No one assure you that Carmen won't reject you."

  "Oh, of course!" Vi excimed. "I was fully aware of that, young Prince. I am absolutely prepared in case things don't go as pnned... Don't worry."

  "Good. I just wao make sure you were ready for that possibility as well," Mirac replied with a nod. "Anyway, getting back to the question you asked me earlier…"

  He hesitated for a moment, searg for the right words, then added with a touotion in his voice:

  "I'm not quite sure how to expin it, but... I just felt deep down that I had to help you, Professor Shirkenn. It was something I couldn't ighat's all."

  The silehat followed was den with unspoken meaning, but Vi received it with a smile, perhaps feeling more fident than he had just a few minutes earlier.

  "I'm gd to hear you say that, young Prince," he replied, visibly moved by the boy's words. "Once again, thank you for all your support!"

  Edward, too, with a nod of his head and a gentle hand pirac's shoulder, offered an affeate smile.

  "Wise words, young Prince. You truly have a noble heart."

  Mirac returheir smiles, feeling forted by their words.

  Thehree resumed their walk, their steps light upoh bordered by flowers and trees.

  * * *

  Here and there, amidst the fl bushes, marble statues emerged—some clearly visible, others partially hidden, as if shy in their siley.

  The flowerbeds, perfectly tended, looked like paintings, with shades ranging from the deep blue of flowers to the bright red of dahlias, and the brilliant yellow of sunflowers.

  As they moved deeper into the garden, Edward, with the practiced eye of someone who knew every secret of the pce, paused occasionally to point out flowers he thought might make the perfect bouquet. He showcased daisies with petals as pure as snow, suggested lilies with an intoxig fragrance, or envisioned positions of vibrant tulips mixed with delicate violets.

  Vi, however, seemed uo make a decision. Each time he heard a suggestion, he shook his head with a dissatisfied expression, even before Mirac could offer his opinion.

  "Oh, uhm, how should I put it... I don't think it's quite... special enough," he murmured softly, as if even he wasirely sure what he was looking for.

  Edward, patient and uanding, didn't let himself be disced.

  Throughout their jourhe old gardener tio suggest flowers with his usual enthusiasm, but Vi deed each proposal with gentle politeness, eventually admitting, disheartehat no bouquet seemed worthy of Carmen.

  Meanwhile, the sun had begun to set, painting the sky with strokes of vivid e, tinged with hues of pink and lic. The clouds had transformed into an impressionist palette, a serene prelude to the approag evening.

  Vi, increasingly dejected, lowered his gaze. His shoulders slumped slightly uhe weight of disappoi.

  "I'm sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Foss," Vi said hesitantly, letting his arms fall to his sides. His eyes betrayed a sense of guilt that seemed heavier than he wao admit.

  Edward, with the calm demeanor of someone aced to seeing the good in every situation, pced a reassuring hand on Vi's shoulder.

  "Don't worry, Professor Shirkenn," he said with a warm smile. "We'll find something that will make you feel fident and proud to present yourself to Carmen."

  Vi nodded slowly, though the ay hadn't yet left him.

  "Thank you," he replied in a low voice, as if afraid of being an eveer burden. "But she'll be back soon… So we'd better hurry."

  They walked in silence for several minutes, until they reached a magnifit expanse of white roses...